The Eighteenth
by Jebus Creiss
Summary: A tale of the closing movements of the Groundhog Apocalypse, and the eternal boy ensnared at its nexus. Four: The portrait of a dreamer…
1. Seventeenth

**Disclaimer:** There are many people and organisations who could be considered to own all or parts of Neongenesis Evangelion, Gainax and Hideaki Anno chief among these. I am in no way one of them. Considering the tragicomedic awesome that is NGE, this is probably for the best.

Anyway…

**Rating: T**

**Warnings:** standard NGE fare – that is, **mild-to-moderate** variants of _violence_, _language_, _nudity_, _sexual references_, _horror_ and all that lovely, lovely stuff. **Also:** _spoilers_. **And:** while I've gone to a pretty thorough effort to avoid _un_necessary OOC-ness, my characterisation will probably not be as crisp as I'd like it to be. (Hey, I gotta start somewhere. Always looking to improve, though…)

**Canon:** Largely animeverse/EoE, with some aesthetic elements imported from other sources (nothing drastic plotwise, though).

**Pairings:** Officially, '_To Be Determined_'. Unofficially… leaning towards no central pairings worth calling as such, for reasons which will soon become obvious.

**Summary:** A tale of the closing movements of the Groundhog Apocalypse, and the eternal boy ensnared at its nexus. One: Hate is life.

(And one more quick note: there will be action and fan-service and so on scattered throughout the story, as should be the case in all (relatively) light-hearted NGE ffics…but this chapter is more to set the scene for what follows, and so will be moderately heavy on the psychobabble.)

* * *

><p><strong>The Eighteenth<strong>

**Chapter 1: Seventeenth (Rinse…)**

—**ox-oxo-xo—**

It was, in many ways, a calm night…

(_It always was, afterwards. Once, driven by a morbid curiosity, he had spent his first few hours back on God's scorched red earth finding a mobile phone which hadn't been wrecked by the titanic forces unleashed by Third Impact. He'd thus calculated by virtue of having long ago memorised the moon's position that it always took a little under fifteen hours for him to emerge from the Red Sea, no matter the circumstances in which he entered – a fact that meant little to him. He had, however, been grimly amused the next time round to note that the Apocalypse, for all its might and fury, seemed to have no effect whatsoever on the applicable 'yesterday's' weather predictions – clear skies, muggy days and warm nights. Just as predicted by the week's forecast._)

…Just as predicted.

The moon hung full and luminous as always in the sky above his forlorn, floating form, bisected artistically from below by a frozen, crystallised spray of Lilith-blood trapped in mid-orbit. It was as familiar to him as the back of his hand. More familiar, in fact. It wasn't like he made a habit of staring fatalistically at the back of his hand.

The _palm_ of his hand…well, that wasn't exactly a habit either. He didn't _always_ jerk off over her comatose doll-form on the penultimate morning. Far from it, though he had this time around – more for tradition's sake than anything, really.

(_Sometimes he covered her up. Sometimes he didn't shake her. Sometimes he didn't visit. A few times he'd somehow managed to arrange that she wasn't hospitalised in the first place, not that it ever made any difference at the end of _der Tag_. Conversely, once he'd been caught by the nurse mid-coitus…which, while excruciating at the time, hadn't made any difference either. And more than once, he'd just strangled her, whether to death or just until the gibbering, fucked-up mess that was Shinji Ikari's autopilot-run body felt a little better._)

The internal autopilot cackled and whimpered, clawing away absentmindedly at his cage-bars, still wallowing in the shellshock that always took him at times like this. Shinji ignored him with the reflexive sort of expertise that came with decades of experience. The spineless little wimp had just been given free rein for the whole damn rinse-cycle, after all. He could wait for a while, until everything reset again.

It wasn't as if Asuka was going anywhere, after all. She'd float there until he had the time and energy to haul her out and begin choking her in the time-honoured fashion. Or until she died of dehydration. Right now, he just couldn't muster up the attention-span to devote to giving a care. Or more accurately, the required attention was focused elsewhere.

Shinji Ikari was asking himself an important question, one of the very few left to him even if he often suspected there was no real answer:

_Why am I even bothering?_

This latest episode, the one which had just drawn to its customarily explosive, gooey close, had essentially been one long exercise in déjà vu. For once, Shinji had more-or-less decided to sit back and let everything run as it had in the beginning. To let the perennially miserable boy he had been custom-neglected to turn out as just follow the strings and play the singular, contradictorily subservient role intended by every deliberate or subconscious puppetmaster he'd met along the way.

It had also been surprisingly enlightening.

The first time around this stale old carousel, he had been blinded to the reality of things by two major factors. The first, the one that even Shinji had eventually begun to notice in a resentfully dim way back then, was that a great many men and organisations had a vested interest in _keeping_ him blind. (After all, the most efficient way to get someone to jump off a cliff was often simply to hood them and set them walking in the desired direction.) The second, of course, was due to the way the boy's thought processes tended to operate.

Those he cared about – Misato, Rei, Asuka, Kaworu, Kaji, many of those who he had come to know – had done their best to help him. But even if they hadn't had their own problems, the vast majority of them had gone about attempting to enlighten him in their own ways – each unique to themselves and their own paradigms, and each unsuitable for safe consumption by one with a mindset such as Shinji had been cursed with. And so he had been unable to process their wisdom until far, far too late.

The eternally lost, eternally hurting, eternally _hating_ little boy-on-autopilot that was Shinji Ikari… He had always been blinded, both by those who shuttered his sight and by his own willingness to take directions instead of simply taking off the blinkers. The pain of his own ignorance had always appeared more easily bearable than the pain of reality.

The eternally watching, eternally pondering, eternally _searching_ little man-in-a-boy's-body that was Shinji Ikari, the spurned identity born and inextricably bound into all the memories and nightmares that the boy simply could not turn around and face without descending straight into screeching, face-shredding insanity… He could certainly attest to that truth. The pain of reality _was_ worse. He just didn't have the luxury of believing that it would go away if he ignored it for long enough.

Misato and Rei and Asuka and all the others might have been gratified to know that all that time (or rather, all _this_ time), there _was_ a hidden corner of Shinji's mind that actually did take their advice in the spirit in which it was offered, even if the boy had only ever acted on it for long enough for said advice to drift out of his grasp due to his underlying inability to understand it, and even if the man had merely turned it every-which-way for its utility and context, only to shove it to the back of his mind as but one more datum among thousands. Then again, they probably would have been disappointed (and furious in the case of some people). It was not as if they had the option of taking the long view. Frenetic life-and-death struggles tended to get in the way of introspection, for those who hadn't been witness to just how fucking _pointless_ it all was.

Yes, it had been surprisingly enlightening. A great many clues to their collective predicament had flown right over his head the first time. A great many more had been buried so poorly that in retrospect, he was almost amazed that he hadn't spent half his time tripping over the corners. And if only he had noticed all those clues, and acted on them…

…he'd still be right here. Which led straight back to his question.

_Why AM I even bothering?_

The comfortingly uniform-clad image of Rei Ayanami flickered over the bloody sea in his peripheral vision. Shinji gave her shade an absentminded nod before she vanished, still mulling over the question.

Seventeen Third Impacts. Seventeen choices. And every single damn time, Shinji Ikari had made the choice to expel himself from Lilith's Black Moon and allow three billion souls to follow at their own leisure. (And every single damn time, Asuka was the first to follow him – but he had long stopped puzzling over that. The reasons had become obvious after a while.)

Every single damn time, Shinji Ikari had decided to save humanity. No matter how much he hated it and all its representatives, deserving or nominal. No matter how many times he decided they should all just die, each time that decision was proved both subject to later reversal and ultimately without meaning in the long run.

So: _why?_

The boy, some portion of his own scattered thoughts aimlessly tumbling down the same lines, hesitantly answered. The hesitance was a measure of his own nature rather than the nature of the response, which followed the well-worn, discordant cadence of thousands of similar pathetic musings. Shinji could almost hear the wheels spinning and rattling over the train tracks. _'I want to be praised, I want to be acknowledged, I want to be accepted, to be loved. I want to be seen as I am, I want them to look at me. Why won't they love me, why won't they look at me, WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME…?'_

The man grit his teeth and restrained his body from the act of turning to grab Asuka and drag her out of the primordial soup, having no patience for such trivial matters. The boy's thoughts span away into a dozen self-perpetuating dunce corners, leaving the man to incorporate the largely rhetorical response into his own train of thought.

…_Selfish_, Shinji mused, for far from the first time. That much at least made sense – after all, the operative part of the word was _self_. Certainly that sense of self(ishness) must have an important part in why he kept choosing to retain it when the choice came. Even the ignorant, wilfully blind boy he had been so very fucking long ago would concede the point if he was ever made to pull his head out of his ass for long enough to consider it seriously.

Probably many people would agree with him on that point. It stood to reason, really. People sought bonds to validate their own existence, to give it meaning to themselves. They looked to others for their own selfish reasons.

And yet…

Shinji Ikari's perspective was utterly unique, across ten thousand years or more of human experience. The closest that could compare would be that of the consciousness that was called Rei Ayanami. At least she tended to die and be resurrected relatively often.

Shinji had, quite literally, lost count of the number of times that he had died.

Seventeen Third Impacts did not equate to seventeen rebirths. It equated to _hundreds_.

(_Sometimes he would experiment with the scenario of the time, hoping for an overall better result, and take it too far. Sometimes the order of his memory would just run against him. For quite a long while back then, he had simply devoted his time and energy to killing himself in any way his feverish, desperate mind could arrange. Sometimes he'd allowed himself to become so invested in some minor compulsion to learn anything and everything about some topic or some person that he would suffer death after horrible squishy death to repeatedly adjust the current timeline and so examine a different facet or perspective or response, or just take the opportunity to watch it happen again in case he'd missed anything._

_Hell, he'd died several dozen times over just to dash over to the perennially doomed manga store two streets away from that fateful phone box, just so he could get around to finishing that incredibly rare manga Hyuga had told him about that one time. (In his defence, it was seriously riveting. Even with Sachiel constantly stomping him into paste every two-and-a-half minutes.)_

_It never mattered, although some of the ways he'd died still caused even him to suffer the odd nightmare. He always, _always_ came back._)

He always came back.

No-one else had that so-called luxury. Even Rei could only return if there was a spare vessel ready and waiting. And even Shinji himself, that very first time living through this eternal nightmare, had begun to grasp at the edges of that contradiction inherent in attempting to justify his motives.

It was perhaps Kaworu Nagisa, for all his pale, imitation shades of the human condition, who best encapsulated Shinji's dilemma.

_If we're all so selfish, then what's the point of self-sacrifice? What's the point of self-validation if you're dead? How does that even make sense?_

Sure, soldiers on whatever frontlines were applicable fought with the knowledge that they might perish. (Even Shinji had known that, for all the lengths that he'd sometimes taken to avoid thinking about it.) Sure, mothers might suffer terrible agonies and die so that their children might be safe. (Rei, of course, serving as the prime example of _that_.) But surely that was all really a matter of risk versus reward, wasn't it? Give and take?

Kaworu, on the other hand, had flat-out told him, over and over again, that he must die in order for Shinji to live. And once the gentle goading was done and his point was made, he invariably waited for Shinji to make that inevitable choice, without the slightest visible inclination towards saving his own life. To everything and everyone that was Shinji Ikari, it stood as the ultimate example of a concept which _just made no sense!_

He must be missing something.

He was just so _tired_.

Not because of the latest bout of Instrumentality. It had taken him thirteen tries to successfully unbind himself from the process, but he'd eventually managed to master the intricate highwire act of distancing himself _just_ far away enough from the epicentre of its nexus to examine its myriad spread of life's lessons without being sucked into the psychedelic mental overload that came hand-in-hand with serving as the gateway for three billion souls to enter into something that a few cynical, ridiculously naïve old men persisted in perceiving as a paradise. It was something the boy could not escape, but since the boy tended to subsequently and automatically dump the vast majority of that trauma on _him_, it was something that the man had acclimated himself to as well.

(_Shinji – his more knowledgeable self, at least – had noticed that both Rei and Kaworu had been…kinda careful at times since then. As if presented with a puzzle that not even Instrumentality could solve, one that might ensnare even their ethereal, Angelic selves if they looked too closely for the knot at the centre of the jumbled yarn._

_Suffice to say, he had been more than slightly amused._)

He wasn't tired from _that_. If he had been, Asuka would have been insufficiently strangled and quite properly disgusted and Shinji would be in tears by now, if not on his way back to run the tired old nag to its frothing collapse once more.

No.

He was tired because he was trapped in an ever-downward spiral of ever-repeating, ever-nescient death, madness and utter _meaninglessness_. Because in purely subjective terms he had grown older than even ex-Professor Fuyutsuki, and more isolated than even his father. Because at heart, after all that time, he was still technically no more than a voice in the back of an eternal fourteen-year-old's mind, and without a clearcut purpose there would be no point in changing that. Because the entire universe and all its glittering marvels had only one thing left that he could bring himself to want. _And it wasn't giving it to him._

Mankind was never meant to be immortal. No sentient lifeform was ever meant to be immortal. If Kaworu's sacrifice(s) had in any way been selfish, perhaps that was how – death, to escape the loneliness that was inevitable when you were immortal and everyone you loved was destined to die, forget or otherwise abandon you.

So perhaps he was misphrasing the question.

_Why the _fuck_ did Shinji Ikari constantly find himself choosing to live?_

_Hope?_ Hope was out. Shinji was all out of that. Seventeen completed cycles and hundreds of incomplete cycles merely served to underline the lesson. And the boy was of no help there, was _never_ of any help there, especially right now—

And then Hell froze over and a ballistic cannonade of pigs flashed across the moonlit sky over Shinji Ikari's prone, floating body.

Which was to say, that one single, disparate fragment of the boy's atomised mind turned to disconsolately whisper his own forgotten opinion to the despairing whole:

'_I just want everyone to be happy.'_

And Shinji froze as if struck by lightning, rocked to a wondering standstill as the second epiphany he had ever experienced, _ever_, made itself clear to him at long, long last.

(_The first had been, at the time, world-shaking, even if it was really his mother's revelation more than his own:_

"_I am me."_

_He had drawn desperately from that, throughout the heaven-to-hell clusterfuck that his second time down the road to Third Impact had ended up so rapidly morphing into. In the end, it had been as futile as everything else except in one crucial aspect: the internal, subconscious construction of someone who was capable of remembering that one deceptively vast, immeasurably destructive truth: that Shinji Ikari was what _he_ perceived himself as, and not merely what others dictated him to be – that was, someone who wouldn't treat advice as orders, only to forget the lessons once the situation changed._

_It was from that pivotal decision that his most central inner dichotomy had been perpetuated, eventually resulting in his own creation…_)

He couldn't believe it. Some portion of the boy's mind had actually come out with something worth listening to.

And it was so SIMPLE!

Like many such epiphanies, it was something that had probably been printed in innumerable self-help publications. But there was a world of difference between reading the words and being presented in a heady flash of inspiration with the perfect example of their meaning.

_The first step in enacting change in yourself is to identify exactly what it is you want to change. The second step is to suborn everything of yourself to the goal of enacting that change._

Though he'd never really found a use in quantifying it in quite such a way until now, Shinji's life – all of Shinji's lives, in fact – had been ruled by four paired directives: two overt and two hidden. But, his mind suddenly found itself in the ideal position to comprehend as the jigsaw pieces finally aligned into place, each pair was _and always would be_ mutually exclusive. And one pair, Shinji realised at last, was not merely contradictory but _unnecessary_. Given the correct adjustment of his perspective, one half of it could be rendered utterly irrelevant.

_I want to live and find happiness._

_I want to help those around me to live and find happiness._

_I want to die and cast myself into oblivion._

_I want those around me to die and be cast into oblivion._

Dying didn't work, because he wanted to live. Living didn't work, because he wanted to die.

Simply dying hadn't worked, and never would. Because in doing so, he was being selfish – just running away from life and the bonds intrinsic to it. He was constantly attempting to ignore the second directive, and therefore would never, _could never_ be truly wedded to the concept of ending himself in all the ways he had attempted to date.

Simply living hadn't worked, and never would. Because in doing so, he was _still_ being selfish – just running away from death and the breaking of said bonds. Never mind that everyone else was unaware of Shinji's endless reiterations of the perpetual black second. Never mind that the boy tended to do his level best to forget that himself. They were still trapped the same way that he was. And as long as he – and they – were trapped, the second directive remained impossible and forever unsatisfied except in a sickening mockery of its letter.

In trying to satisfy both the first and the third directives, he doomed himself, everybody he had ever cared about, everyone _they_ had ever cared about, and so forth and on to every single soul on the planet, to failure. To eternal unhappiness.

And as for the fourth directive… well.

"_Nothing ever changes, so they can all just die!"_

That was just it. They couldn't. And _he_ couldn't. Seventeen Third Impacts and countless suicides had made that crystal-clear to him.

"_I love you."_ Kaworu…

"_I HATE YOU!"_ Asuka…

Each emotion – each forming one side of the same coin. Each integral to all four of the directives.

Remove the coin, and nothing mattered – even Rei at her most doll-like could attest to that. Seventeen Third Impacts, countless suicides, all rendered utterly without meaning. Beyond the bounds of that coin, the self was irrelevant. Love or hate – both formed an acknowledgement of the other's existence. An acknowledgement of the other's life, even if only of a desire to end it – and therefore, an acknowledgement of one's own life. In other words: a bond.

Seventeen Third Impacts, and he could satisfy none of the directives that drove him. His reasoning, the definition of his purpose to this point had been faulty. He therefore needed to come up with something different. And when though of in such simple terms, the solution suddenly become transparently obvious:

_Forsake utterly one directive. Render another directive irrelevant in the process. Embrace the others. Henceforth decide upon your methods and then fulfill your chosen purpose without further ado._

If he lived, he would hate. This was inescapable, an integral part of the human condition. For most humans, this was merely a fact of life. A truism, even. For Shinji Ikari, at this time and in this place, that hate would doom everyone and everything to the ends of eternity…including himself.

And he was tired of hating.

Certainty, the very essence of genuine certainty, filled Shinji Ikari for the second time in…well, _ever_.

When Shinji finally allowed his inner autopilot to take Asuka's uninjured left hand and gently tug her to shore, she made no sign of having noticed. She never did. But the mere fact that he grabbed _that_ hand instead of the closest one to him – and always had…

That, if anything, served to validate his decision. He understood it all now.

Kaworu died, happy that Shinji would live and perhaps find happiness. Finding one purpose to be unattainable, he spent himself in fulfilling another. Nothing changed except for his own perceptions – so he changed himself instead of trying to deny them.

It was time that Shinji finally set about following that finest of examples.

_Hah._ He'd had enough. If the universe wasn't going to give him what he wanted, he was just going to go ahead and _take_ it!

* * *

><p>…<em>Shinji…<em>

The Eva-pilot around which her every thought orbited.

…Hooray for her.

Asuka could go on for ages about how many ways she was pissed off at Shinji Ikari right then. She had a rather long list, and it would most certainly be expanding just as soon as she could think straight. Which would be a while, after that nice long sojourn within the mindscape of _that_ pervert!

(_'Oh well – at least it's keeping my mind off Mama right now,'_ she most certainly DID NOT think. That was just one of a whole stack of worm-filled cans she didn't want to even approach with a ten-foot _prog knife_ until she was feeling a little more rational. Having one's mind, then body, then mind (again) ripped apart and cello-taped back together in quick succession tended to inculcate a certain timidity, after all. Not that she was thinking any of this. Because she WASN'T!

If someone happened to somehow have a window into the frothing mess that was what passed for her psyche at that moment, they probably wouldn't be too impressed with her current attitude. Suffice to say, repeated mental and physical evisceration did no favours _there_, either…)

Sadly, there was a problem with the idea of voicing her plethora of _baka_-related complaints. Namely, the fact that the focus of said complaints was currently engaged in throttling the life out of her, and she therefore couldn't breathe. Well, it was probably him. Who else would be around? Her life always seemed to run like that nowadays. Damn _baka_…ruining her life…why was it always…

Hmm, she appeared to be dying. And as much empty, posthumous satisfaction as she might have gained from just ignoring him until death did them part, Asuka Langley Sohryu once again found herself not wishing to die just now, thank you very much. Her hand reached up, a wraithlike white blob of pain in her malfunctioning eyesight, to rest against the vaguely shadowed white blob hovering over her. The constriction at her throat lessened and then became something approaching a caress for reasons she didn't really want to analyse just then.

Asuka blinked, and became properly aware that she had working eyes. Or one working eye. Either hadn't seemed particularly relevant up until then. She also became aware that the body over her own appeared to be quivering spasmodically. _Figures. He's probably crying again. Or maybe jerking off._

"…How disgusting…"

Then she blinked again, focusing harder on the spectacle above her in an effort to confirm what she suddenly realised was the sound her ears were registering.

Shinji was…_laughing_…?

* * *

><p>One brief, blissful moment of nothingness. One fleeting taste of peace before the war began anew. That was what it should have felt like. Indeed, that was what it usually felt like.<p>

Instead, it was filled with the sounds of a boy's impotent, panicked screams. Shinji Ikari had long been fed up with the eternal brat's vacillations, awaiting only a purpose and a plan to make his move.

(_The Plan itself was actually quite simple, something he'd come up with after Third Impact the Thirteenth and fleshed out after three more iterations. And had he truly embraced the Plan, it might have even worked. But at the time, it had more-or-less taken the form of an extraordinarily long and detailed daydream. The Plan, after all, was in essence a mere expression of the Purpose._)

And now girded fast with that Purpose and Plan, Shinji Ikari had _struck_.

_That was the last time, Asuka_, he swore, mercilessly engulfing the last lonely remnants of the boy he had been. _Never again will you fall victim to my incompetence._ It was time for a tearing down of the barriers which had compartmentalised his mind into so many disparate, fatalistic splinters. _Never again will others suffer for my indecision._ It was time to embrace his truest purpose at last. And against that purpose, that certainty, the boy simply could not stand. _This time… I WILL end it._ The sheer immovable certainty of his next vow sucked every pleading, malingering shard of his soul into the newly formed composite that Shinji had forged of it for the task ahead. All except one. _I WILL NOT RUN._

One last little fragment, the long-sundered shard of one kind little boy who once-upon-a-time just wanted everyone to be happy like he was, whimpered and cowered before his looming adult might.

Shinji knelt down, and offered the frightened phantom his hand with a kind little smile. One last promise, a tribute to where he had truly begun, and how its innocently given advice had gifted him the key to attaining his ultimate desire.

For all the bone-deep changes he had wrought in his own psyche, it was imperative that this one aspect remain unaltered. There were plenty of reasons for that, some of them intrinsic to the Plan or the Purpose, many of them hard to put into words.

_This I promise._

But perhaps the most simple reason was that he just felt the need for some company. And Shinji Ikari had always been adept at creating his own.

…

…

…

* * *

><p>The empty streets. The forlorn storefronts and dwellings. The heavy silence of a city in hiding. The calm before the firestorm.<p>

"_Due to the special emergency, all lines are currently unavailable._"

_Why_ he always returned to this point, he didn't really know. _Why_ strangling Asuka seemed to be the trigger to returning… well, he'd figured _that_ out long ago.

As of this point, he knew to the marrow of his bones, both matters had become utterly irrelevant. His bridges were burned. This time, they would not be rebuilt.

No more hate. His purpose held no room for it.

Shinji hung up the phone and turned to smile at the point where Rei's pallid image would shortly flash into his sight and herald the endgame. Time to enjoy a rare breath of air that, while not particularly fresh, was at least not smothered in the stench of LCL, antiseptic and high-explosive munitions. A little under ten seconds to steel his resolve before Tokyo-3 plunged into war against the heavens.

"All right, here we go… One last time."

* * *

><p><strong>Ending AN:** Well, I hope you've enjoyed it so far. Updating will be…fairly sporadic most likely, sad to say, but I'll keep at it as long as I can keep the attention-span on track. There will probably be minor edits along the line, but it'll be restricted to the aesthetics unless I make a major fuckup somewhere…which is the whole _point_ of the sporadic updating, so that's hopefully unlikely.

A minor note on the non-English language use: for the most part, I won't be using the Japanese, particularly the honorifics. If I was confident that I could do it without looking like a pretentious twit, then I might. I ain't, so I'm not. German, though, is a different matter – especially in the case of someone who slips into using it when they're annoyed. There will be the odd exception to this – quite frankly, _baka_ is just such a useful, all-purpose term…

Anyway… Thank you for taking the time to read, and I hope you enjoy the next instalment when it appears. In the meantime, your opinions would be most appreciated and serve as good motivation to help me continue in timely fashion.


	2. Groundhog

**Disclaimer:** …nah, can't be bothered. Refer to the first chapter if you really _must_.

**Summary:** A tale of the closing movements of the Groundhog Apocalypse, and the eternal boy ensnared at its nexus. Two: Once more into the breach…

**A/N:** I shouldn't have to say this given last chapter's telegraphing, but: _OOC Shinji warning_! from here on. Then again, this isn't exactly Shinji anymore – this is the voice in the back of his head who's watched Shinji waffle and screw things up for at least half-a-century…

Also. While I'm here, a quick but heartfelt _danke shön_ and thank-you respectively to **KendrixTermina** and **shin-jim99** for their reviews.

* * *

><p><strong>The Eighteenth<strong>

**Chapter 2: Groundhog (…and Repeat?)**

—**ox-oxo-xo—**

One ruby-red eye stared up muzzily at the khaki-sprayed armourplate that formed the corridor's ceiling.

Perhaps not even the Commander might have noticed the infinitesimal signs of puzzlement locked in its set. No-one else in her experience had made the habit of looking into her eyes anyway. The colour, and the ostensible dearth of expression, tended to put them off.

The reason she was in the corridor was perfectly straightforward, even blunted as her skills of deduction were by a cocktail of agony and sedatives. And it was not as if her ears were incapable of their intended function. There was an Angel about to attack the city, and Unit 01 would be dispatched to meet it. The new Operations Director was on her way to collect the Third Child, who would be ordered to pilot it. But given the time constraints, the Commander judged it highly probable that Rei Ayanami would nevertheless be called upon to pilot the Eva. Should such a situation occur, it made sense that she would therefore be stationed in a corridor within the relevant sector wearing as much of a plugsuit as yesterday's injuries would allow, with a communications technician off to the side awaiting the requisite order and a medic on hand holding the requisite chemical agent to immediately counteract the sedatives and make that order possible to follow, so to reduce the time lost in switching the pilots.

That there might be another reason for her current location did not cross her mind. She was not in the habit of questioning her orders.

That she had just returned from an involuntary astral phase, in and of itself, was little cause for concern. It was relatively harmless if occasionally disorienting, and left no trace of evidence. The Commander had told her such anomalous occurrences did not threaten his scenario, being merely a by-product of her existence as Lilith's vessel. It seemed mildly unusual for the soul she had for whatever reason gravitated to in this instance – a boy of perhaps her apparent age, dark-brown hair and slate-blue eyes – to actually see her. But that was not worthy of any concern either. The heightened sense of connection that she received from the boy was also of no relevance, unless and until the Commander should direct her to interact with him.

What _was_ unusual, was the way the boy had reacted.

His eyes had locked onto hers in _the very moment_ that she appeared. And then he had _smiled_. And _waved_ at her!

Rei Ayanami, as a rule, was far from the curious type. It was the fact that she suddenly found herself curious about such a decidedly minor interaction that was vexing her. There was no reason for that curiosity. Was there not?

Why did she feel so…disconcerted?

Rei mentally shrugged, breathed deep the scent of antiseptic layered over still-seeping blood, and reverted to her customary state of fatalistic quiescence. Such things were transient, she knew. In the long run, nothing had changed.

* * *

><p>Shinji indulged himself in a brief bout of snickering. The way her eyes had snapped wide open when he greeted her, after all, had been highly amusing.<p>

(_Not as amusing at the time she'd appeared just in time for his backpack to go flying through the space occupied by her head, though. That had been just _hilarious_…_

_Not to mention somewhat frightening. Rei was unsurprisingly well-suited to dealing death-glares. That hadn't stopped him from blowing a nice long raspberry at her when she turned up in the cage. Perhaps that was why her fist 'accidentally' found his groin when he subsequently ran over to check her over after she fell from the cot. Though it was hard to tell. She was also unsurprisingly well-suited to looking as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth._)

He sighed nostalgically, reflexively ducking to keep clear as the first missiles went screaming over his head and around the tower of apartments behind him. _Good times…_

Yep, there was the VTOL…there was the Angel…down came the VTOL…here came the Angel… He crouched in place, the better to shelter from the pulverised aircraft's fiery destruction. Then he sprinted for the car door, which opened just in time for him to worm his way past the driver and into the front passenger seat with the minimum of wasted time.

"_Drive!_" he screamed, snapping the restraint in place and tightening it with one blurred movement.

Misato shut her mouth, turned back around and sent the car fishtailing away from the incoming missiles' debris and Sachiel's descending foot. Shinji sat back, centring his mass as best he could in the seat, and mentally ticked off his first successful 'high school debut' moment. Yes, there was nothing like a life-and-death experience with a gigantic beast to snap an angsty teenage boy out of his funk…at least, that's what he'd tell Ritsuko and her duckling-trail of tame pseudo-psychs later.

It would work. It would _have_ to work. He must _make_ it work. There were no more second chances anymore.

Not once, not _once_ in all the times round the spiral had he ever felt such life coursing through him! No more the plodding progress-that-never-was. No more the idle tweak-after-tweak-after-tweak of the cycles, carried out for no reason other than to pass the endless time. No more the perpetual groping for hope. In the end, it was as simple as knowing what he had to do – and wanting to do it.

The _FINISH_ line beckoned at last, and he wanted it so bad he could _taste_ it. One more round of cutting the corners and subtly sabotaging his rivals (and just as subtly shepherding his teammates), and the race would finally come to its rightful close…

…but there was a ways to go before that happened, and Shinji Ikari was not about to let the final victory slip through his grasp. There really _were_ no second chances anymore. At the very first slip-up, he could wipe out and doom everything. So it was time to knuckle down, apply his every sliver of attention, and make his every manoeuvre count – because this time, it really did.

A certain amount of wild swerving, aerial items pinballing round the backseat area, and muffled cursing in soprano snarl followed in the meantime, as was to be expected when one was driving the hell away from a fifty-metre-tall monster and the flood of munitions that were being fired at it. Fortunately Sachiel seemed to be in no hurry, so about five minutes was sufficient to put a nice hefty bank of rock and dirt between them and the ongoing battle.

Driver and passenger stared at each other for a moment. Misato Katsuragi smiled cheerfully, as if she hadn't just dropped the f-bomb half-a-dozen times in the first minutes of their acquaintance.

"Anyway, hi there! Sorry about the wait."

Shinji shrugged, trying not to draw attention to the seatbelt popping loose. "It's all right, Miss Katsuragi. There's no harm done."

Misato wrinkled her nose momentarily, irked a little by his polite term of address, before diving into the back seat for a set of binoculars. Shinji found his head pinned between the edge of the window and Misato's armpit, and let the patterns of hundreds of repetitions guide his actions despite the discomfort.

There was a very good reason for it.

As near as Shinji had been able to discern, there was no-one else on the planet – not Mother, not SEELE, not even Kaworu or Rei – who realised the convoluted loop that events had formed. And that included the Angels. This had plenty of handy pluses, particularly when it came to the Angel battles. They could be reasonably relied upon to act in the prescribed ways, and for the most part turn up when they were supposed to. But there were some disadvantages.

Being in a car that has been sent rapidly flipping along the ground from the blast wave of an N2 mine is an inherently dangerous place to be. Not wearing a seatbelt, not to mention being in the vicinity of someone _else_ not wearing a seatbelt, does not help matters. On many previous occasions, Shinji had tried to find a more comfortable position. Over half the time, the resulting change of position had led to Misato's subsequent crippling or even death.

So he acted exactly the same as he had the first time, trying not to blush at the semi-inappropriate contact (because ancient as he felt mentally, he still had to deal with a 14-year-old body's share of hormones), and let Misato act to protect him in the only way that had been proven to guarantee her own safety over hundreds of test-runs as she screamed out warning and pinned him under her.

It still hurt. It always did.

—ox-oxo-xo—

The first hurdles dealt with, Shinji got on with the task of making himself subtly indispensable to NERV Captain Misato Katsuragi. There was, after all, no better way right now to ensure that the Katsuragi Currently-A-Pigsty would become his residence. It was not particularly challenging; this close to the start of the loop, the young soon-to-be-Eva-pilot had practiced the scenario times beyond count. So the method was pretty simple – two parts of following orders and assisting with alacrity and initiative—

"All right! Shinji, could you dig out the roll of tape from the backseat? I'm afraid we've got no time to call a rep— hey, that was quick…!"

He handed her the roll of tape and dived back into the backseat to stow away the rest of the mess.

—mixed with one part of acting shy and easily embarrassed, which Misato could be relied upon to classify as 'cute'.

"Um, M-Misato?"

"Yes, Shinji?"

"A-Are you _sure_ it'll be all right to take those batteries…?"

He politely listened as she stumbled through her shoddy justifications, knowing perfectly well that the theft of a dozen electric Battery Pacs from a certain service station would never be reported anyway.

"O-Okay. I hope you're right, Misato. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble…"

She reached over and ruffled the boy's hair. "You'll see, it'll be fine!"

To be fair, he supposed he _could_ have just played to the original script. But Shinji's immediate object for now was to present the correct balance between innocence and responsibility. Innocent enough for Misato to 'take pity' on him and take on a _de facto_ house-servant – and responsible enough to convince her to task him with the culinary duties _immediately_ upon his entry to their home.

Seriously. He would go _that_ far to avoid Misato's so-called 'cooking'.

Well. That, and cutting the timewasting to a minimum. He had no wish to go traipsing all over NERV HQ again, not when the solution was so simple.

"_This is the C-22 Special Express departing directly for G33-1. This train will bypass all other stations. Please stand back._"

"Hm… I've never been to Tokyo-3 before. How do you avoid getting lost in such a big and confusing place?" He accompanied the question with a look that combined 'inquisitive' and 'adoring puppy-dog'.

Misato giggled, "Well, it comes with practice." And then frowned. "Then again, I haven't been living here for that long either."

Shinji nodded and held his peace. Prodding her at this point would be counterproductive, and he was pretty sure now that he'd done enough. His hypothesis was proved correct when she picked up the carphone and dialled a number as the cartrain began moving.

"Yeah, hi again… One more thing – do you think you could send someone down to meet us at, um what was it…?" Shinji muttered the train's destination. "G33-1? Don't want to get lost at a time like this…"

That done, Misato hung up and tried not to look sheepish. "Just in case."

Shinji 'hmm'ed in as non-judgemental a manner as possible. Job done – time to get back to the script, preferably minus the self-pitying whingefest. "So… NERV?"

All-in-all, he saved nearly twenty minutes. That would be vital to Shinji's scenario. And manoeuvring himself into the best possible position to help with her many problems later on…well, that just made it all the better.

—ox-oxo-xo—

"Well done," Dr. Ritsuko Akagi smirked at her old friend, "you didn't get lost this time. Even if you _did_ have help getting here. You _do_ realise we're short on manpower, don't you?" Ritsuko pointed at the rapidly departing tech to illustrate her example.

"Hey! I _got_ here didn't I?" Misato grumbled. After all, results were what counted, right?

Shinji ignored the conversational byplay, quirking an eyebrow at the LCL-reservoir transport's operator. Said operator dropped the just-blooming mien of impatience at being noticed by one of his soon-to-be passengers, and gestured 'come here'.

"So this is— Where's the boy?"

The transport's operator was kind enough to whistle out, thereby keeping intact Shinji's newly crafted image as a level-headed boy who didn't rub his elders' faces in their faults. Said faults in this case being (a) Misato and Ritsuko standing around on the dock chewing the fat when they could just as easily been standing _on the boat_ chewing the fat…

"Any time now, ladies!" the operator shouted, tapping his watch.

…and (b) the operator being an antisocial, misogynistic old bastard.

"…Ah." The women hurried down the ramp and onto the transport, glaring at the operator. He snorted and ducked in to take the controls.

"So, yeah. This is him. According to the Marduk report, he's the 'Third Child'."

The doctor looked at him, her stare as calculating and dispassionate as always upon their introduction. "Pleased to meet you."

Shinji bobbed a little bow from his seat in her direction. "Likewise…doctor?" he replied, letting his eyes flicker for one-quarter of a second over Dr. Akagi's rather atypical outfit.

Her puzzlement cleared so quickly that it might as well have not been there. A labcoat over bathers did not make for instant job-identification, after all. She began pulling clothing out of the bag she'd been carrying when she greeted them. "Correct. Dr. Ritsuko Akagi, head of the Technical Department. And you would be Shinji Ikari."

"Yes, Dr. Akagi." He looked back down at the NERV induction booklet, which he had long ago memorised back-to-front. One more, admittedly small step in adjusting another aspect of the scenario; she had formally introduced herself, and had done so with only the lightest of prodding. The sooner she stopped thinking at him as 'the boy', which was a moniker not so far from that of 'the subject', the better it would be for everyone.

"He's a lot like his father, I gotta say," Misato chuckled, catching the red uniform-jacket Ritsuko tossed at her. "A little gruff and quiet… Pretty calm, too."

"Well, that's a blessing…"

Shinji kept quiet, turning the booklet's pages every so often as the women tuned out his presence. There was little point in drawing attention to himself just now, given that they wouldn't answer most of the questions he could have asked.

—ox-oxo-xo—

The lights came on.

He stared. For about three seconds.

"…'Evangelion, Unit 01', right?"

Captain Katsuragi flinched. "How did you—?"

"I saw its arm outside, Misato. You know, from the transport?"

"Well observed, Shinji," Dr. Akagi congratulated him. There was no hint of surprise in her mien. Shinji _had_ quietly looked out the window while the doctor was taking the time to throw on the rest of her clothes. Ritsuko had _seen_ him do it. He couldn't have her getting suspicious, now could he? "This is mankind's ultimate fighting machine, the synthetic lifeform: Evangelion, Unit One. Built in secret, it is man's last hope."

More silence. He also couldn't afford to look too blasé about this. "…A-Against that monster Misato and me saw, right?"

"Correct."

Shinji looked up—

(_Once he'd snatched Misato's sidearm and shot at him with it. Which of course meant a dozen-plus times over of working out how to get her sidearm – eventually he'd gone with slipping it out of her holster and into his pocket in the brief period of total darkness before the Eva's big reveal._

_Sadly, the gun wasn't accurate enough at that distance. And the glass was too thick anyway. Not that it mattered anymore._)

—and saw his father standing in the usual place.

"It's been a while," Gendo Ikari noted.

"…So it has, Father," Shinji answered. "I guess you have something to do with all this?"

He hesitated for a moment, slightly puzzled at the calm way the boy was reacting. "That's right. I am NERV's Commander. And we're moving out."

"Moving out? Unit Zero's still in cryostasis, isn't it?" Misato gasped, staring at the purple-plated cyborg. "Wait a minute! You're going to use Unit One?"

Shinji was mostly certain that it wasn't an act. _Mostly_. You never quite knew with Misato – she exhibited a high aptitude in the art of bullshitting herself at times, and surely she must have suspected _something_.

"There's no other way," Ritsuko confirmed.

"Hold on! Rei can't do it yet, can she?" That's right, tick off the boxes… "We don't have a pilot!"

"One's just been delivered." Then again, it was just possible that Misato hadn't even suspected. Certainly the tone of Dr. Akagi's response seemed to indicate that such was her opinion.

"You're not serious?" Not that Shinji minded. With the exposition drawn out this long and the reasoning laid out in Ritsuko's brusque logic, it allowed him to save valuable time and cover his tracks while he was at it. Everything came down to paying attention, and taking nothing for granted.

Everything, and nothing. And _always_.

"Shinji Ikari." The doctor turned to him, staring hard into his eyes. "You will pilot it."

Shinji stared consideringly at the Eva, biding his time. In any case, Misato was willing to fill the silence for the moment. "But even Rei Ayanami took seven months to synchronise with her Eva. It's impossible for him to do it! He just got here!"

"He just has to sit in the seat," Akagi retorted. "We don't expect more than that."

Yup. It was _amazing_ how much information he could have picked up if only he'd listened properly the first time. But then, that probably would've been something a great many people would find troubling.

"But…"

Yeah, that was probably long enough. He'd just saved another five minutes.

"All right. I'll do it," Shinji said.

"WHAAAA—?"

"Very well," Commander Ikari nodded and turned away. "Commence launch preparations. Ready the entry plug." A bevy of technicians sprang to life at the order, doubtless glad not to have their jobs put on hold for the sake of a fourteen-year-old boy's ill-timed bitchfit. Hooray for small mercies…

"But… But—!"

"We appreciate your co-operation, _Pilot_ Ikari," Dr. Akagi told him with an understated smile tinged with a well-masked touch of relief.

"But what—!"

"It's simple, Misato." Shinji turned to her for the first time since they had entered the enclosure. "Whatever that thing is, it's coming here. Right, Dr. Akagi?"

The doctor nodded. "Yes. We call it an Angel, by the way."

"Right. Weird name… anyway. I'm the only one who can do this, and it seems that… Angel can only be stopped by one of these Evangelions. Right?"

"W-Well…yeah but—" Misato stammered.

"So either I get in and pilot the Eva, or the Angel destroys the entire city _and_ the Geofront – with me in it. When you look at it that way, I'm actually a little safer in the Eva."

"…I suppose," she muttered. A brief period of silence followed. "You know, you're actually smarter than you look."

"I'll take that as a compliment, shall I?" He smiled, careful not to make it a smirk.

—ox-oxo-xo—

"Are you getting me in here?" Shinji inquired, thumbing the CB button on the console. That and a small camera positioned over the cockpit were the only way to communicate with the pilots while their entry plugs were in transit, at least until a couple of modifications were made to them later on.

He could practically hear Ritsuko muttering 'damn, how did he find that?' – which, by some strange coincidence, was exactly what she _did_ say before punching the comm button. "_Loud and clear. What do you want?_"

"I have a few questions." The entry plug shuddered as its outer shell corkscrewed into place. "The first one is… No, better question. What's this liquid?"

"_LCL. You breathe it._"

There was no point in putting up a fuss. He breathed out. He breathed in.

"…Yummy." Those on the bridge could not fail to miss the sarcasm.

"_You'll get used to it,_" Dr. Akagi told him. "_Now be quiet for a moment._"

_They'll want an initial sync ratio first…_ Shinji kept silent for a few moments, watching as they turned the confines of his tin-can into a psychedelic lightshow and then rendered a view of the Eva's surroundings for the benefit of his jacked optic nerves.

It was just one of those things better not questioned for now. But he supposed a certain amount of quiet gawping was in order, so he performed some for the bridge's benefit.

1st Lieutenant Maya Ibuki's businesslike tones drifted through the comm link, which Akagi had kindly left open – or more likely, had simply not seen the point of closing. "_Bi-directional circuits are open. Synchronisation ratio at…hang on, that's…_" She fell silent for a moment in disbelief. "_Yup, harmonics seem to be all normal, no disturbances identified… Synchronisation ratio at 45.7 percent._"

Shinji blinked. "Is that good enough?" _As projected; the 41.3 percent baseline, plus the experienced pilot, minus the Eva not moving by itself this time._ Going on past iterations, it should get to the low fifties by the time he was ready to fight.

"More_ than good enough, Shinji…_" Ritsuko breathed. "_Amazing._" She shook herself, opening a comm window into the cockpit. "_You had questions?_"

"Just the ones you would expect. Weapons, defences, power source – that sort of thing?" Now if only he'd had those answers the first time around… though of course, they weren't as important as the next one. "And also: how the heck am I supposed to move this Eva?"

A deathly silence from the other end of the commlink. He conscientiously refrained from grinning.

Hey, he had to find his laughs somewhere. Even if he wasn't actually laughing.

Gods, he'd become so damn cynical over the years. Words could not describe how badly all this needed to just _end_.

"_All right, but we'll have to be quick. That Angel looks like it's getting ready to move again,_" she eventually replied. This he knew – if he was keeping track right, then he had about ten minutes before NERV went to Level 1 battle stations, and a few minutes after that until Sachiel crested the mountain range and started firing on the city.

"_The Evangelion is controlled using bi-directional circuits, much like an extension of your nervous system. In order to move it, you need to concentrate on moving it the way you want it to._"

"You mean…visualise it?"

"_Not quite. A better way of saying it would be to convince yourself that you _are_ the Eva._"

"Hmm, okay. So, why _these_ things?" He tapped the steering yokes.

"_Two reasons. First reason: the controls are context-sensitive. When synched with your Eva, you will instinctually work the controls in the manner required; as such, there's no reason to worry too much about that. Just do what feels right, and it will work as it's meant to. Secondly, it's the most efficient place to put some of the pilot-specific controls, such as the backup comm button you found earlier. Can you find the primary comm button?_"

He made pretence of searching for a couple of seconds before punching it. "Is that it?"

"_That's better. You're coming over clearer now._"

"Someone up there mentioned 'synchronisation'. What's so important about it?" he asked, flicking off the backup comm.

"_It's a measure of the motor control you have over your Evangelion. The higher it is, the better your potential control over the Eva. But here's a warning: the higher it is, the more the Eva's pain receptors will feed back into the connection. So if, say, the Eva loses an arm, then you will feel as if you've lost an arm._" Shinji's eyes snapped wide most convincingly. "_Don't worry, your own arm will still work. You'll just have to fight through the pain. You can do that, right Shinji?_"

The pilot sighed bleakly. "I'll just have to, won't I?" He watched Misato turn away from past Ritsuko's shoulder, hiding her face. The last shard inside him whimpered unhappily at the sight. He shushed it absently. "All right, weapons."

"_We're loading a progressive knife in the right shoulder canopy._" Yup. There were so many better uses for those technicians' time than repairing damaged armour plating on said shoulder. Just one more advantage of enlightened time management. "_Use it like you would a normal knife. We have pallet rifles under construction, but we'd rather give you a little more training before you get your hands on one of those._"

It wasn't as if he could refute that logic. Or rather, he _could_ – it just wouldn't be a good idea. "Armour?"

"_Articulated joints connecting to plate casing. By itself it'll stand up to most things we know about, but the AT field is what allows the Eva to act at full effectiveness._" She continued without waiting for the obvious question. "_When activated, it is a border beyond which virtually _nothing_ can pass, with the exception of mass-destructive force or a stronger AT field. In addition, it is theorised that you can use it to nullify other AT fields, though testing has yet to be conducted on that. This AT field, Shinji, is the reason why only Evangelions can defeat the Angels._"

Silence from the Eva Unit One entry plug.

"…_What's wrong?_"

"You just said 'Angels'. As in the plural." _Walked right into that one, didn't you? Sucker…_

Dr. Akagi shrugged, trying to pass her slip off as nothing. "_Your point?_"

"…I'll fight this Angel without a fuss, because if I don't then I'll die with the rest of the city. But if this is going to become a job," he glared into the camera feed, "then rest assured, there _will_ be conditions."

"_I'll pass that on to the commander._" Her smirk was almost impossible to discern over the feed, but the tone of her reply portrayed just fine her opinion of just how well _that_ little request was going to go down.

Not that he cared. If he conducted the upcoming battle correctly, Shinji would now have other options at his disposal. And utilising those options should further his Plan at the same time, so all the better.

"You do that. Now, power supply?"

"_Umbilical power cable, connected to the lower back. An internal battery will keep the Eva running for 5 minutes, or 1 minute under full battle conditions – the AT field is a major energy drain._"

"…Huh. How long's the cord? I guess you'd rather not have me fight the Angel within range of the city…?"

"_You'd be right about _that!" Captain Katsuragi shouted over the link. "_We'll be launching you up at the city's outskirts. Hey Ritsuko, how long ARE those cables?_"

"_4000 metres from the access point,_" Dr. Akagi told her. A brief delay while the Operations Director leant over the balcony to check the bridge's topographical hologram and returned.

"_You'll be able to get as far as the top of the rise. If you want to go further away, then you'll have to do it on backup power,_" Misato said. She seemed understandably sceptical about his chances of success under those conditions. It wasn't as if she had any reason to think differently, after all.

And it wasn't as if Shinji was about to go proving her overly pessimistic. He had his own plans to adhere to, and they did not involve defeating the Third Angel without first awakening the Eva.

* * *

><p>"All right," Captain Katsuragi told all present in general and the Third Child in particular, "Evangelion Unit One will be launched from the outskirts as soon as it's ready. This will give the pilot some time to practice moving the Eva before entering combat."<p>

She hid her nervousness well, Gendo Ikari thought. Perhaps that was how she naturally reacted in combat conditions – or perhaps it was merely subsumed under the woman's desperate need for vengeance. Not that the Commander particularly cared at the moment. She would perform her function. That was all that was required of her.

Of course, even such invested senior officers as Katsuragi needed an occasional reminder of the…elastic ethical standards required of her position every now and then.

"Can we really do this?"

And dispensing such reminders, even for such a minor show of doubt, formed part of the role he must play. "Of course. Unless we defeat the Angels, we have no future," he told her. "And at least the boy has had some pre-launch training."

The captain turned to carry out her orders. Fuyutsuki, however, felt the need to mutter one last query:

"Are you absolutely certain about this?"

Even with no-one in earshot, it came wrapped well in a layer of obfuscation. Kozo had never quite managed to reconcile his conscience with the aims of Gendo's scenario. That the old professor had essentially signed on as his second to perform the role of devil's advocate had been understood from the beginning.

Under normal circumstances, Rei was probably capable of operating Unit One. Even with the grievous injuries her current body had sustained, she could most likely defeat the Angel – although she would likely not survive the attempt. However, that was not the point. The boy was meant to be the pilot, his lack of training was immaterial in the long run. Given his phenomenal initial synchronisation ratio, even SEELE would concede the rationale behind the Marduk report's selection of Shinji Ikari as the Third Child. But without that training, in his place SEELE would no doubt elect Rei to fill in for him to combat the Angels until that training was provided.

Instead, Eva Unit One would be sent out in the control of a boy with less than five _minutes_ of training, who would have no chance of beating the Angel – without first awakening the Eva. And that was _not_ in SEELE's plan. SEELE had no place in their Human Instrumentality Project for Commander Gendo Ikari's son. And the last thing SEELE needed at the business end of Third Impact was an Evangelion that might just decide it didn't like their version of events.

_He_, on the other hand, disagreed with both of these points.

Gendo grinned behind his hands. One more step toward his goal.

* * *

><p>"<em>Launch!<em>" Misato yelled.

Bonejarring G-forces instantly lashed the entry plug and its occupant, the pilot gritting his teeth and moaning with the pressure. For the space of nearly ten seconds, that same pressure and the wildly fluctuating vibration that came with it threw every sensor trained on the entry plug into disarray.

Not a severe magnitude of disarray, no. But still enough for Shinji to enact his first major strategic movement. Any sensor reading during transit and several seconds after would most likely be written off as erroneous data.

'_Mother?'_

The dormant soul within the sleeping titan stirred, regarding him with a muzzy spark of curiosity that flickered to life and burned brighter with recognition and anticipation as every moment passed.

Shinji sent his mother a mental pulse of reassurance and a plea for restraint. _'Just a little longer, and we'll catch up uninterrupted, Mother. Stay back for now; you'll know when.'_

She withdrew, for the moment, but only after gifting her son the sensation of a warm, maternal embrace.

The Eva's headlong rush slammed to a sudden halt which rattled his teeth some more, reminding him to check whether he was smiling. He was, but could probably pass it off as an adrenaline rush.

Now it truly began. _Stage One: underway…_

* * *

><p><strong>Ending AN:** Watching a spot of TV the next afternoon after I posted the first chapter, I was actually rather surprised to find that I'd effective posted the damn thing on Groundhog Day. Man, I wish I could take credit for that…on second thoughts, I think I shall. Yup – I'm just that brilliant.

…Stop looking at me like that.

In the meantime, let's have some _omake_!

—ox-oxo-xo—

Yep, there was the VTOL…there was the Angel…down came the VTOL…here came the Angel… He crouched in place, the better to shelter from the pulverised aircraft's fiery destruction. Then he sprinted for the car door, which opened just in time for him to worm his way under the driver's arm and into the car with the minimum of wasted time.

"_Drive!_" he screamed.

A deathly silence from behind him.

"…What the hell do you think you're doing, kid?"

Shinji turned round to glare at Misato over his shoulder. "We're in a _hurry_, Misato! Get a move on!"

Misato stared at him. Then she grinned evilly. "If you insist!"

The quick reverse sent him tumbling off her lap and smacking noggin-first into the passenger-side door, and the following fishtail-outta-hell sent him pinballing around the cabin for several blur-filled seconds, the end of which found Shinji with his head wedged securely between the passenger seat and the door.

"Cheeky little shit," Misato muttered, fixing her sunglasses and adjusting the central mirror. She took a closer look at the boy's most prominent feature from her vantage point. "Cute ass, though…"

* * *

><p>Ahh, my very first <em>omake<em>-thingy.

Outwardly, and seen from a distance, the first arc of events will tend to deviate only slightly from the anime. But, as will become apparent in coming chapters, there will be a great deal going on behind the scenes. It'll take a short while for events to snowball into proper AR territory, but it _will_ happen…

Anyway. Thanks for reading, and watch out for the next instalment. Reviews would be lovely, especially if they include suggestions for improvement.


	3. Bait the Trap

**Disclaimer:** don't own. Refer the first chapter.

**Summary:** A tale of the closing movements of the Groundhog Apocalypse, and the eternal boy ensnared at its nexus. Three: Mother is a state of mind.

**A/N:** This, I'm thinking, is about as long as I want my chapters to get. Sorry if you like really long chappies, I guess, but even at this length I had trouble editing the thing with objectivity. Also: this fic isn't going to be Shinji/Misato. But I imagine those who like that pairing will enjoy the chapter's ending.

And while I'm here, thanks to **Blitzstrahl**, **KendrixTermina** and **Neristhaed** for their reviews. And KendrixTermina, your Gendo-warning is appreciated even if it was unneeded. Trust me, I have something far worthier planned for the so-called Bastard King…

* * *

><p><strong>The Eighteenth<strong>

**Chapter 3: Bait the Trap (I'm home!)**

—**ox-oxo-xo—**

"_All right, just concentrate on walking for now…_"

Shinji ignored Dr. Akagi for the moment, scanning the rapidly darkening area surrounding Unit 01 as the sun continued its stately descent past the mountains behind him. Mid-rise apartment blocks in abundance, he noted – not the wisest place to start from. To be fair, they were all in a bit of a rush, so he decided not to complain.

Besides, he thought he could see a way around the problem.

"_Shinji! Pay attention!_" Akagi yelled.

"I am the Eva, the Eva is me," he whispered to himself.

Shinji watched the scientist's brow crease for a moment, satisfied. He had to have some sort of excuse for being able to pull off his next move. First though… The massive right foot of Evangelion Unit 01 rose, hovering and then moving forward in a careful arc to descend with a relatively soft impact on the asphalt below. The car next to its footfall still lost its windows.

"_He's walking!_" Shinji winced. Really, she could be surprisingly loud when she was caught up in the moment.

"I am the Eva…"

The Eva slowly crouched in place, careful not to knock itself on nearby buildings.

"_What are you doing?_"

"…The Eva is me."

Walls rattled, power lines screamed and the car neatly flipped on its side in the sudden concussive burst of pressure as Eva Unit-01 sprang forward into a standing jump. It wasn't elegant, and it was far from poetry in motion. The Eva skidded and nearly fell on landing, propping itself up at the last moment with a hastily outflung hand. But as the Eva straightened, Shinji checked behind him and saw that he'd done well enough.

"…_Whoa…_" he heard one of the techs – Hyuga, he thought – mutter from somewhere off-camera.

"Getting out of that residential district. And if _I_ know how to walk, then so does the Eva. Now, how do I get that knife out?"

* * *

><p>"Whoa," Lt. Hyuga repeated, more than a little stunned.<p>

"Sync rate at… 53.4 percent now. It's like the kid's some sort of born pilot," Lt. Ibuki muttered.

"…Huh." Lt. Aoba straightened in his chair. "I guess that's why the landing was so unimpressive. Kid's probably never done a standing longjump before."

Hyuga shook his head. "But still, just—"

"Sirs!" Another tech whirled to face the Commander's desk. "The target is starting to move again!"

"Right," Fuyutsuki answered, prudently deciding not to interrupt Commander Ikari's deliberations. "All personnel, assume battle stations, Level One."

On the bridge, the statement was largely redundant – although it did remind the lieutenants of what they were meant to be doing. Elsewhere, however, NERV personnel all over the compound scrambled to their assigned stations.

Most of them involved damage control. The Angel had already proved conclusively its capacity for destruction, with nothing more than a lazy afternoon of stomping, impaling and otherwise blowing to smithereens UN aircraft and fortifications. No-one wanted to see what this monster could do when it stopped mucking about. But since when had _that_ ever mattered?

Gendo Ikari nodded slightly to himself, his eyes snapping to glacial clarity. "Begin the attack."

* * *

><p>Shinji managed not to grin. Only just, though. It wasn't every day he succeeded in slipping one over his father.<p>

One thing that Shinji had _not_ been told of was the Angel's modes of attack – specifically, the long-range energy strike that had taken out one of the UN's spyplanes shortly after the N2 bombing. He hadn't asked. He could have, but that would have been counterproductive to his own plans.

The Eva would be awoken. That was his father's aim. And for that to happen, the Third Child needed to be taken out of the equation.

Shinji was the Eva, the Eva was Shinji. So he could walk, or run, without a problem. He could perform a clumsy jump, and hold a knife so as not to cut himself. But Shinji – the Shinji that Gendo Ikari had been keeping discreet tabs on for ten years, at least – had never been in any fight worse than the odd spot of being bullied in the corridors at school.

Had the Commander come to the conclusion that the Third Child might prove capable of defeating Sachiel by himself, he would have taken measures to make him mentally withdraw from the combat in other ways. And the easiest way would have been simply to hold him in place for further 'training' until the Angel appeared over the rise and started blasting everything in sight. Let him get a taste of collateral carnage, as it were.

But Shinji's ruse had worked. Instead, he was being sent forth to have the Angel beat the shit out of him.

_Perfect._

Unit 01 began picking its way carefully across the fields toward the rise as the sky sank into evening over the fortress city. _'All right, Mother. I need you to listen very closely…'_

…

…

…

—ox-oxo-xo—

Shinji cracked his eyes open, greeted with the sight of a ceiling that once upon a distant time had been unfamiliar. It was more shadowed than it had been that first time, as befitted the fact that dawn had just passed.

_Yes. Perfect._

Well, probably. His memory was extremely fuzzy concerning the specifics of the fight itself, the bulk of his mind having been elsewhere for the latter half. If no damage had been wrought on the city itself, then it really would be perfect.

He would have to find out the long way, though. Shinji would never recall the battle in its entirety. The circumstances were different, after all. In the meantime, Shinji Ikari could only lay back, wait to be swamped with medical staff, and savour his first victory.

Or, more correctly, his first ally.

—ox-oxo-xo—

"_Hello, Mother. I'd say it's been a while, but…" he shrugged helplessly, "for me, it's just been a few hours."_

_Yui Ikari walked out from under the shade of the tree, approaching slowly and carefully as if afraid he might bolt. She stopped in front of Shinji, staring into the pits of his soul with eyes almost the same shade as his own._

_Eyes that filled to brimming with something more akin to horror than pity._

_For the most part, reading the soul's deepest secrets was a curse – something he had realised long, long ago. It was the reason why Shinji had learned, shortly before the fourth Third Impact if he remembered correctly, to hide that aspect of his experiences from her when they met._

(_Most teenagers, put in a situation where their mother could know their every thought and memory, might sweat over some of their more…imaginative fantasies. Or that time they went over to a friend's house and performed some bizarre act whilst under the influence of whatever. Or that they're still afraid of strangers bearing candy. Or…well, a lot of things that teenagers wouldn't admit even to _themselves_, let alone their mothers._

_Most teenagers haven't killed themselves so many times they've lost count. Or killed so many others, even if a substantial portion of them were Asuka._)

_This time however, there was no choice. To help him in the way that he needed, she had to know just about _everything_._

"_Shinji… Is that really you? What have you _done_ to yourself?"_

_But that didn't mean he wanted to talk about his past right now. Time was of the essence._

"_The only thing I could think of. Sorry to disappoint you Mom… but I MUST do this. Can you…" Shinji swallowed. "Can you forgive me, Mother? And…can you forgive _him_?"_

_She remained silent for an endlessly dragging moment, before looking away to the lake. She was trying to find a reason to tell him _no!_, he knew. 'No!' to _what_, was up for question; there were several possibilities. And he couldn't blame her for any of them. "Is there really nothing of you left?"_

"_Well…there is one piece."_

_A small boy, about three years old, came into existence next to him. The boy looked up and gaped._

"_Mommy?"_

_Yui squealed and reached down to snatch up her son. Young Shinji squealed and leapt into her arms. The older Shinji – correction, the _much_ older Shinji – looked on with a sad little smile and waited for his mother to think matters out. Yui Ikari was one of the most brilliant scientists to walk the earth – even melting into a puddle of adoring mother-goo wasn't going to put more than a minor dent in that sort of intellect._

"_I…" She eventually sighed. "I guess I can see why you've chosen this path. I can't say I'm happy about it. I've invested so much in Project E, even my very soul…"_

_Yui looked down at the joyful little boy in her arms, mind ticking over behind those loving eyes in directions that Shinji had long ago realised even he occasionally had trouble comprehending. Eventually she looked up and met his gaze. He found himself…not holding his breath, not really. But…_

"…_But I can see why it must be done. There's nothing to forgive, Shinji; you're not to blame for the ruination of my plan. I will help you." Her mouth, remembered so well as seemingly set into a permanent smile, tightened in a grimace. "_Him_, on the other hand…"_

_He breathed out. Metaphorically speaking at least. That sort of thing was more-or-less optional in this realm of the spirit. "Please, Mom. I'll make sure he does his best to deserve it. But I _need_ you to forgive him. Or, at least give him a chance?"_

…_But, well, this was one of the reasons why he'd spared Young Shinji in the first place. The little tyke knew about bonds, took to them, reached out for them on an instinctual level his fanatic 'big brother' was simply incapable of matching. In a sense that was perilously close to reality, he didn't have a Mother any more than he had a Father. He simply couldn't afford to see them that way, not with all the associations of unthinking love and trust and loyalty implied. The kid, on the other hand…_

_Well. To the smallest of children, there was no real difference between death and absence._

_More silence, this time with scorned femininity's frowning for accompaniment._

"…_We'll see."_

_Shinji sighed. That was probably the best he could get. At least it wasn't a flat-out 'no'. He really had been expecting rejection, at least an initial one._

"_All right, Mom…and, thank you. Is the Eva done yet?"_

"_Yes, she's just about done. I did my best to keep the damage down as you asked," Yui answered, her returning to sharpness. She kissed her boy on the nose, making him giggle and rub at it, and set him down. "See you soon, my Little Shinji. Come back anytime." Then she looked back up at Shinji's dominant persona. "I'll go ahead and bar the Eva to anyone else's control. That should help your cause."_

"_Thanks, Mom."_

—ox-oxo-xo—

_Stage One: complete._

Shinji climbed out of his cot, looking for his backpack. It was time to begin Stage Two.

—ox-oxo-xo—

The newest Eva pilot enjoyed a restful hour or so after his preparations were done and the heavy bank of post-battle tests had been passed with flying colours, apart from the memory loss. He wandered around for a while, chatting amiably with the odd resident or orderly, on the basis that if he was going to be spending large chunks of his time here (not that he _planned_ to, but just in case), then it would be useful to him down the track to make his face known and grown accustomed to. Allies could be found anywhere if one looked hard enough, after all.

Shinji also made certain to be in a certain corridor looking out on the hilly scenery surrounding the NERV medical facility as Rei Ayanami was pushed past in a hospital bed (on the way _to_ her morning's treatment regimen, as opposed to _from_ it – just another effect of his shorter stretch of unconsciousness). If anything, the First Child's reaction when he smiled and waved – and threw in a wink for good measure – was even funnier than it was the first time…

* * *

><p>All things considered, Rei felt…acceptable. For the most part. Physically, at least.<p>

Given her current circumstances, the Third Child had presumably arrived in time to pilot, was found to be able to operate Unit-01, and then went on to defeat the Angel. No-one had actually apprised her of the situation, beyond the medic muttering something like 'looks like you luck out this time, kid' as he put away the stimulant and went for the morphine. But it was a new day, and everyone was still alive. It was the most likely outcome.

"Okay, can you straighten your left arm?" She did as ordered, ignoring the opiate-muted twinge of pain.

This was acceptable. Most things were, but this was more acceptable than the norm. Her current vessel would be allowed some time to recuperate before once more attempting to operate an Eva unit. The Third Child's participation would increase NERV's chances of defeating any Angels that came before that day. The Commander would be satisfied with this turn of events.

Rei wondered if the Commander would visit her today.

She would not tell him about the strange boy, the one who looked at her like he saw her inside and out and somehow _respected? admired? liked? …recognised?_ what he saw. The Commander should not be bothered with such trivialities, even if she had to suffer them.

* * *

><p>…But that was far from merely for his own amusement. Shinji had long ago learned not to repeat his father's mistakes. Rei was both one of the most important and one of the most mismanaged players in Third Impact, and the methods of the son had beaten the methods of the father at the bitter end every last time. And this time, he had every intention of teaching Gendo Ikari né Rokubungi the folly of his plans personally.<p>

That, however, was a matter for later. In the meantime, while the NERV Commander prepared to field the Human Instrumentality Committee's inevitable litany of complaints and the Operations Director tagged along with her Technical Department counterpart to run oversight on the cleanup and upgrades of the city's fortifications until she was called back in to debrief her newest subordinate, the Third Child headed off to attend the meeting he'd scheduled earlier with NERV's Administrative Department. Specifically, the section which dealt with payroll and employee contracts.

After all, surely his father had better things to devote his attention to than personally arranging the _de facto_ indenture of a single pilot…

—ox-oxo-xo—

"Wow. These are some pretty good terms…" Misato flicked through his new contract. "I can see you haven't been wasting your time here while you were waiting for me."

Shinji rubbed his neck and laughed nervously as he looked up from the hospital foyer seat at his newly official commanding officer. "Uh, thanks Misato. I've never done this kind of thing before, so it's nice to know I didn't do it wrong…"

"Oh no, you certainly haven't got _this_ wrong," she assured him, smirking at his blushing display of relief. "I see you even scored a fat bonus for killing the Angel. Go, Shinji!"

He _had_ been wrong, albeit only to an extent. Shinji had been greeted with a boilerplate contract left on file a few days ago by Commander Ikari, the terms of which were…well, lousy. If he had to guess, Shinji thought the document was usually to be found buried among the welter of paperwork that Misato or whoever was required to sign upon taking up his guardianship.

(_Money, for the Third Child, had been essentially a non-issue for as long as he could remember. Initially, the deal had been so simple that for the most part he hadn't even thought about it: he did what he was told, and in return he was provided for. He might not have been provided _much_, but it wasn't as if he followed his orders with any real enthusiasm anyway, so it more-or-less evened out._

_Once the spiral kicked into effect, he had quite often found uses for money. But the fact that he could basically act with impunity as far as legal and ethical considerations were concerned meant that he had tended to resort to other methods of getting his hands on it._

_His favoured method, ironically enough, tended to involve selling classified information to interested powers, usually the Japanese government. Round up a decent sum in the first week, then invest it in Japan Heavy Chemical Industries and ride the stock high, pulling it out in the morning after Misato left for the Jet Alone Project announcement – that was usually sufficient for whatever needs he had at the time. Sure, he'd be caught. But usually he was done with it by the time that happened._

_Shinji had never before seen the point of trying to negotiate a better deal with NERV. It probably wouldn't have been worth the hassle._)

He was told that this was essentially the same contract as that for the First and Second Children – which, after some brief consideration, _did_ make a fair bit of sense to Shinji. After all, the girls had been with NERV for a long time. Which meant that those contracts were signed and approved by their guardians when they were still _very_ young – indeed, when they were so young that even had they seen the contracts back then it was unlikely that they would have understood them, even assuming that they cared. No wonder they were essentially piloting for bed-and-board, pocket money and a trust fund that no-one seriously expected them to live long enough to receive. Especially when considering that Gendo Ikari was the next-of-kin beneficiary to two of those funds, and the recipient of the other was married to, as one of Asuka's friendlier iterations had once phrased it in typically flamboyant fashion, 'the biggest gold-digger that side of the Urals'.

Shinji had detailed the gist of this speculation to the accountant, who told him that his father had approved the contract and he had no choice but to accept it. The Third Child had been rather unimpressed with her legal opinion, and thus proceeded to drive a figurative series of FUSO heavy road-trains through the gaps in her argument.

"Hehe… You see Misato, it's because I don't have a guardian right now. Father signed me over to the teacher, and then the teacher waived it when I left for Tokyo-3. So because I'm _technically_ an adult until someone is assigned to be my guardian…" he shrugged, looking at his lap while Misato dropped to the seat next to him, "well, it meant I could negotiate my own contract. I just need my new guardian to sign it off when I get one."

Of course, that hadn't left all that much wriggle-room – at least, not that the accountant had known about. It was clear to the number-cruncher that his father would get around to taking guardianship of the presumptuous little brat once he had the time to process the paperwork, at which point any contract drawn up would obviously be quashed. But Shinji Ikari _was_ the commander's son, and _had_ just saved the city yesterday besides – and also, he had stressed quite bluntly the fact that he had not yet _agreed_ to take the job on an ongoing basis. So she'd begrudgingly decided to humour him for the hour or so required to draw up the new contract. It was a change of pace, anyway, something to while away some time until lunch.

Shinji hadn't been greedy; overall, his total pay had only risen by about fifteen percent from the original contract. But that increase had been added straight to the original five-percent stipend, in effect quadrupling his take-home pay. It was still unspectacular as far as adult pay-scales went, about on-par with a moderately qualified tradesman, but it would still easily suffice to make what little life he would have outside of NERV very comfortable…as well as fund the purchase of a great deal of source material, the better to justify his future knowledge of many useful (and in several cases downright necessary) topics of interest to any future onlookers.

And more importantly in this instance, to serve as a hefty if unspoken incentive for the woman who had just come in to pick him up.

There was another reason. But that would wait until the paperwork was processed.

"So, you're not moving in with your dad?" Misato asked rhetorically.

"I _hope_ not," he snorted. "I remember how Dr. Akagi reacted when I warned there'd be conditions. I'd bet he would reject that contract just on general principle."

Misato froze. "…What? Why?"

"It's simple, Misato. He needs me to pilot the Evangelion, right? To fight the Angels?"

"That's right…"

"Well… I don't really remember how I beat the Angel, but…" He fell silent for a moment, his mien becoming pale and haunted. "I remember my body feeling like it was on fire, from when it fired that…beam at me…"

(Shinji had sent the Eva climbing up the rise, to crest the top and wait for the Angel to come and attack him. The fact that he'd carefully angled his trajectory as the Eva ascended so that nothing in the way of, oh let's say, underground shelters or major residential dwellings lay behind him went unnoticed by those on the bridge.

When he straightened at the top of the rise just in time to catch a blast in the face from Sachiel's kilometre-distant form, knocking his Eva all the way back down the slope, this proved to be _extremely_ fortunate.)

"…and I remember when it felt like it was _my_ eye that was having a white-hot spike driven into it again and again…"

(From there, on the face of it, the fight proceeded more-or-less to script. He could not have been blamed for being too rattled by Sachiel's titanic opening salvo – _without_ the AT field, thank you very much – to regather himself when the Angel came floating over the now well-scorched rise and picked the Eva up by its head.

In the entry plug, Shinji screamed in unfeigned agony and scrabbled at his burning right eye and bided his time as the bridge staff panicked. It was just as the Angel's energy lance powered up for the sixth and final strike when he sent out the call for his mother to take over…)

And 'take over' she had. That was where his memory of the battle ended, replaced by an endless expanse of white mist which cleared to reveal the phantom of a tree-dotted park next to a lake he hadn't seen in reality since his mother was still wearing the body she was born with.

Shinji took a deep, shaky breath. "It was terrifying, Misato. And I'm _fourteen_! and now I'm expected to go through all that over and over again?" Then he straightened in his chair, twisting to regard the captain. She was, unsurprisingly, staring at him with horror and guilt hidden not-_quite_-well-enough under her professional expression as she waited for him to finish. "Could anyone be _blamed_ for thinking I might get so scared that I'd run away from it?"

Misato's visage shuttered with an almost audible _clang_; he felt vaguely guilty for punching her buttons like that, but it really did have to be done. Much like back in the holding tank that first yesterday, sometimes she needed to be led through the logic for her to grasp it.

Besides, it was kinda like teasing if he thought about it in the right way. And teasing Misato was one of his life's minor, easily indulged pleasures. It wasn't as if he had any major ones to indulge, after all.

She hissed, "Don't you even _think_ about—" Then she stopped, gaping bug-eyed down her nose at Shinji's hand laid gently over her mouth.

"I'm _not_," he stated firmly. "I'm the only one who can do this. And the people of this city _need_ me to do it. I'm not running." Shinji stopped, and removed his hand, and turned away with a blush. "Sorry… B-But my father doesn't know that, and he can't afford to lose me, right?"

Misato shook herself, her eyes narrowing with the realisation of Shinji's point. "So what you're saying is that he doesn't want to give you anything that might help you escape…"

She considered that for a moment, coming to one conclusion immediately.

"You _really_ don't get along with your father, do you?"

"It's not so much that, really. It's just… I don't _know_ him. The last I saw Father was three years ago. And that was the first I'd seen him since Mother died and he abandoned me. I…" He shrugged helplessly, 'inadvertently' upping the 'cute' factor by approximately twenty Misato-points. "If he didn't need me, he wouldn't have called for me. That's just how he is, I guess. And besides, he's the _Commander of NERV_. He's got to be busy, right? So why would he want me in the way?"

Misato stared down at him, chocolate eyes smouldering with feverish debate. "Hmm… no relatives here either, I guess… And if you end up staying in the NERV barracks… huh…" She fell quiet, mind racing frenetically through the turns. They would probably put him in the barracks. Staying there would put him under the technical guardianship of some Security goon, who might sign his contract without a fuss but would more likely request instructions from their boss – that was, his father – before doing anything of the sort. And she believed him about not running away. But could he really be telling the truth about what his father would do when he saw that contract…?

Could she trust Shinji's reasoning?

…She didn't want to think it, she really didn't. But it made a lot of sense. Keep the kid close, cut off all avenues of retreat. There was just too much on the line to help it. For that matter, she herself probably had a duty to do the same – but unlike the Commander, she'd actually _spoken_ to the boy. She'd _seen_ the determination in his eyes. And right now at least, he had no intention of running. _Now_, anyway.

Could she trust Shinji not to run later on? Would that resolve falter under the strain?

…Yes, she thought she could trust him. He seemed a gruff and quiet kid, but he was pretty smart – smart enough to know when running simply wasn't an option anymore. And whatever he was, he wasn't a coward. He got scared sometimes, who didn't? – but no, he wasn't a coward.

So if that was the case, why shouldn't he get a decent paycheque for his efforts?

Still…she should probably keep an eye on him somehow, just to make sure…

Shinji could _see_ the point at which she reached her conclusion. If this were an anime, the moment would probably have been marked by yen-shaped pupils and the distant ringing of a cash-register. As it was, the way her eyes lit up and the cheshire grin that spread across her face remained distinctly unnerving – even if it _was_ exactly what he'd planned in the first place.

—ox-oxo-xo—

"_WHAT?_"

"So, I said I'll take care of Shinji," Misato yelled down the phoneline. She coulda _sworn_ the trucks had better soundproofing than that… "I've already got permission from the brass."

The transferral of her new roomie had been surprisingly easy. The Security gopher she'd intercepted had been pleasantly amenable to her 'let the boy's superior officer keep an eye on him' line of attack. There _had_ been a brief delay over the new employee contract, though. Whoever had gone over it with him had been so certain it would be turned down, they hadn't even bothered to lodge the damn form!

Ah well. It wasn't like it was all for nothing. Shinji's temporary security card had already been linked to his new bank account, and the high-six-figures sum from his Angel-bounty bonus would be added to it by the time they stepped out of the building. And she already had the first portion of her cut all lined up, too.

"And hey, it's not like I'm going to 'put the moves' on a kid…"

Ritsuko exploded on the other end of the line. "_Of course not! What the hell are you thinking?_" She prudently moved the handset away from her ear. "_You're always like that! Honestly!_"

"She just can't take a joke." the captain muttered as the doctor continued her tirade. Misato suddenly smirked lecherously down the phoneline. "Then again, he _is_ cooking me dinner tonight…"

Ritsuko's torrent of vituperation increased in volume and venom most satisfyingly. Misato laughed and pulled a face over her shoulder at her new ward. Shinji cocked an eyebrow at her in obvious puzzlement, being too far away to hear their conversation. A little disappointed, she grinned and turned back to the handset.

"Anyway, Rits… How far along are the new defences? I guess the cleanup is done by now?"

"_That's right, Misato. I'm currently overseeing the placement of some new equipment for the next battle. If you're done over there, you should really get back. Your _job_, remember?_"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on… I'll be there in half an hour."

They made their farewells and she turned back round to regard Shinji. "I gotta get back out there, I got pulled in here a little earlier than I expected, and I've still got some work to do."

Shinji stood there looking a little lost. She could practically hear him asking 'what about me?'… Well, most of the public transport was still down, so it was either leave him floating around NERV or—

"Say, wanna tag along? It'll give you a little perspective on what goes on behind the scenes… besides, no-one wants hospital food for lunch, right? We can pick something up on the way!"

He smiled. "Well, it sounds better than hanging around here. And yeah, I'm famished!"

* * *

><p>"I'm… I'm home!"<p>

"Welcome home!"

It was…fitting, in a sense. Over two-thirds of what would have been his adult life had been spent calling this place 'home'. There were so many memories trapped in the walls of this humble little flat – many of them endless repetitions, many more of them simple daily or weekly habits worn into the dance of decades. Memories pleasant and terrible, and quite often both at once.

(_He'd tried other places, of course. A bunch of times in the same apartment block as Rei, especially between the fifth and sixth Third Impacts. A bunch more in the Geofront barracks where NERV were originally going to put him. Occasionally with one of the bridge bunnies, though it was tricky to organise – he still remembered fondly the handful of months he'd spent living with 1__st__ Lieutenant Shigeru Aoba and the more esoteric corners of his music collection. Almost as fondly as he recalled the brief time he'd arranged to live in the Security barracks itself. Unlike Misato, some of the Security agents had actually let him drink with them a few times. He'd been a borderline alcoholic (or at least, had really _wanted_ to be one) by the time he'd been shifted back to Misato's to join Asuka for their dance-training._

_There were some strike-outs, of course. Ritsuko, for instance – her sometimes neurotic notions of spatial order and personal space did not mesh well with flatmates. Living with Kaji had been much more of a tribulation than Asuka might have expected. And like them, Mr. Fuyutsuki simply had too many secrets and too little time to get along in more than a distantly kind fashion with Ikari Jr.._

_Not once had he lived with his father. And the only complaining he'd done about that was to convince others to let him move in with them instead._)

Shinji had never really had a concept of the term, the first time he stepped over this innocuous aluminium rail-strip. Now he appreciated the term, the meaning and the _moment_ of coming home for what it was.

One last time. Full circle – it really was fitting.

"As you can see, the place is a little bit messy, but make yourself comfortable…"

He looked around, masking the sense of nostalgia as best he could. The cairns of dead Yebisu soldiers! the bench masquerading as an altar to the Grand Old Gods of Technicolour Snakes! the migratory Half-bagged Mounds of Misplaced Landfill slowly welding themselves to the boxes of unpacked belongings in the corners! the isolated pockets of cleaning supplies making their desperate last stands for Hygiene and Motherland…!

Pfft. It wasn't that bad, really. The parts of the floor that weren't buried under garbage bags were actually pretty clean where they hadn't had food or booze spilled on them at some point. It took longer than that for a place to truly qualify as a shithole. (In the case of Rei's apartment, for instance, a little over a year.) And it wasn't like he cared. He was home!

"It must've been some housewarming!"

"Hehe, it was pretty fun," Misato chuckled on her way to the main bedroom. "Can't remember that much of it though. Weird, huh…?" She stuck her head back round the doorframe. "Oh! Sorry! Could you put the food in the fridge?"

Right. Time to get to work. "Sure."

About thirty seconds was taken to familiarise himself with the layout of the flat, no attempt made to mute his footfalls as he navigated around the several stockpiles of vaguely biohazardous material – more for Misato's benefit than his own, of course. It would look rather strange if he miraculously knew the place like the back of his hand. Then followed the cartage of rubbish to the front door, complete with the solemn if hurried interment of the tragically massacred— ahem, _valiantly vanquished_ army of Yebisu. Cleaners were rescued and stored appropriately, with the detergent briefly utilised to wipe down the table and kitchen-bench areas. A thin layer of dust was removed from the stovetop with a cloth as the food-fridge slid open in his peripheral-right vision.

Shinji turned to the table, smiling at Misato. "No need to wait on my account. Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes."

She promptly cracked open and drained her first beer of the night with the customary salutation, watching the boy as he flicked open each cupboard in succession to survey what she had in the way of culinary implements. It might have surprised those who had tasted Misato's attempts at home cooking to observe that she actually possessed many of the necessary tools (courtesy of her mother's adamant insistence, for the most part); that surprise would have dissipated upon closer inspection, the vast majority of said tools having never been put to their intended use. Shinji made no comment, merely digging out a wok and chopping board before closing the cabinets and going for the knives.

Misato sat mesmerised, trying not to look too awed in case he happened to be covertly watching back. She just couldn't help it. The unassuming boy seemed to float around the kitchen, like he was performing an intricate dance that he'd practiced for years, the tiniest of movements paced and honed to the perfect minimum of extraneous energy consumption. He didn't even seem to be exerting himself! and yet he was constantly in motion, hands ever busy performing tasks ranging from straightforward to outright arcane to the bachelorette's wondering eyes—

"Hmm?" He'd stopped, or at least slowed. He must have said something.

"How spicy did you want it, Misato?"

"Um… very?" she mumbled, still more than a little dazed.

"You got it." The rhythm picked up again. "What's in the other fridge?"

Misato blinked. "Oh! That's your other roommate. He's probably sleeping right now."

Shinji nodded, pausing to retrieve a small mixing bowl and another chopping board. "What does he eat?"

She froze. Should she tell him? She _had_ planned to surprise Shinji, for her own amusement more than anything. But…watching him dance around the kitchen like he'd been _born_ there, Misato felt the urge for mischief dwindle. It'd be like pranking her mother.

"Fish, usually. PenPen's a hot springs penguin."

Shinji froze in turn. Not for long at all, but enough for Misato to feel a little satisfaction. At least she'd surprised him a bit. "Really? I've never heard of such an animal. They must be really rare or something…"

Misato's mouth occupied itself in telling him about PenPen while her eyes went back to lightly hypnotising her brain, which reverted to the idling position it felt it deserved after a long, hot day. _Pranking my mother? Where did that come from…?_

Maybe _that_ was it, she realised.

Wild horses would have been required to drag it from her lips even after she'd got back around to speaking again, but Misato Katsuragi had always both appreciated and envied her mother's skills in the kitchen when she was a kid. She might not have _wanted_ to be a homemaker for the most part, but the way she'd never found the knack for cooking –_real_ cooking, not the augmentation of instant meals she did pride herself on perfecting – had bugged her in quiet little ways ever since they had been separated. Every house Misato had stayed in since had just never seemed quite like a home without a lived-in kitchen.

Put that way… she'd never had a home, not _really_, since Second Impact. Since she was Shinji's age.

He'd chatted with her amiably enough over the course of the afternoon, inquisitive and thoughtful about everything that drew his attention – at least, once he had been reassured (quite honestly, much to everyone's surprise and relief) that he didn't appear to have hurt anyone during the course of yesterday evening's battle. But he'd mentioned even less about his past than she had. And she had read his case file. Misato doubted that Shinji had ever really thought of his _sensei_'s domicile as a home. Which meant that he hadn't had a home for so long that he probably didn't even remember what it was like.

No home, no mother. (_No father…_) How did a boy deal with that and end up like Shinji? And how did such a kid step into a random kitchen and instantly mark it as His Rightful Domain?

"You know, Shinji?"

"Yes, Misato?" he replied, setting down two heaping bowls of _where the hell did he pull the noodles from?_ coiled round and under two generous portions of some sort of vegetarian stirfry she didn't recognise. Hers, she noted with interest, was noticeably redder than his portion.

"One day, you're going to make some lucky kid one hell of a mother."

Shinji blushed and stammered something that might have been protestation or thanks, conveniently hiding his face by hurrying over to the fridge to fetch another Yebisu for Misato and a soda for himself. By the way he was trying not to grin when he returned, she knew it had been appreciated.

Who'd have thought? This really _was_ a home now. Honestly, _she'd_ intended to be the one mothering _him_, but who cared? A home was a home. And it was good.

Maybe she'd give her a call later on tonight. She had to be worrying, what with the news being dominated with the attack on Tokyo-3…

"Thank you for this meal!"

They ate the meal. And it too was good. Excellent, in fact – not as spicy as the curry she'd been planning to nuke before Shinji had offered to cook tonight, she could taste the actual flavours for once, but still with enough of a bite to it that it went spectacularly with the beer.

Speaking of beer…

_Crack-Fizz-Glugglugglug…_ "AHHHHHHHH, good stuff! Life just doesn't get any better than this!"

She meant it. For once, she actually kinda meant it. Sure, there were plenty of things that might be better about Misato's life. But things right now were going great! The Angels might be back, but Shinji had already killed his first, the city was pulling together behind him even if most of them didn't know he existed, and she was in the box seat of the war against her nemesis. Her car might be trashed, but Shinji had promised to foot the repair bill in exchange for free rein on the owner's manual (he said he was curious, and for all she knew he actually _was_). And the new 'man' in her life might not be available for…ahem, _those_ duties – because _no_, she really wasn't planning to put the moves on a kid! – but dammit he somehow _still_ made this flat feel like a home instead of the flop she'd still been trying to convince herself it wasn't.

Yeah. Things probably could be better. But right now, she'd settle for this any day of the week.

And bless his heart, Shinji just smiled back like he understood and tucked into his meal.

Then he stopped, and looked up.

"Hey, I recognise that outfit!"

Oh, yeah. This was gonna be _sweet_…

* * *

><p>Shinji Ikari stared up through his ceiling, body innocently ticking through its organic checklists as the mind floated in a realm of that which for most other people would have been called speculation. For him, most things were a matter of probability.<p>

For instance, he could hear Misato in the bathroom. That she was on the phone to someone in there, with the tap running, indicated a high probability that she was speaking about him. Probably to Ritsuko, about whether he would pilot again. Shinji couldn't hear her words, but he wasn't particularly worried on that count. After all, he'd agreed to pilot. Hell, he'd knowingly signed a contract to that effect.

His teeth flashed in the darkness. Misato had not actually been the primary target of that trap.

That contract _would_ cross Commander Ikari's desk. Misato had kicked up quite a ruckus over at Admin, and they would be looking for revenge once things had calmed down a little. And in all probability, given that said contract was legal and non-negotiable without the say-so of both Shinji _and_ his new guardian once it was countersigned (something that he had insisted on, much to the accountant's chagrin), there was only one way his father could react to such a small-minded challenge to his authority from his own child.

And _that_ was when the trap would snap shut, and Gendo would be his. And then he could _really_ get started.

In the meantime, there was plenty to be going on with. Tomorrow would be filled with the battery of beginner's tests that he should have taken years ago, and seeing how many ideas he could contribute to their training programme without arousing suspicion would help pass the time. Shinji supposed he really should do some shopping as well – preferably _after_ the tests, given that a few well-phrased questions about the Second Child would give him the excuse to go out and 'begin' learning some German. In the same vein, NERV Security could do with a visit; he could leave it for a few days, but sooner rather than later some martial arts training would really come in handy. That and some gymnastics. The spirit was willing, but the flesh needed to get the muscle-memory down as soon as possible.

As for Monday, Tokyo-3's 1st Public Middle School had a desk waiting for him. A desk surrounded by students, the majority of who had fathers (not mothers, _never_ mothers) who worked in diverse and far-flung sections of NERV. A desk surrounded by potential security leaks, of which Kensuke Aida was merely the most accessible. And, not least, a desk surrounded by boys and girls innocent and ignorant of the hell that Shinji Ikari had pledged to do his level best to spare them from.

That he befriend them was for the most part unnecessary, but could be considered a bonus where it happened.

Shamshel would be along in about two weeks, and Ramiel a week or so after that. Then the Jet Alone fiasco, after which Asuka and Kaji were slated to arrive and things would begin to get really interesting. And lurking unseen through the byzantine depths, SEELE and their myriad array of pawns kept their eyes peeled for the first sign of things deviating too far from their own dark scenario.

Shinji had a Plan. But even he had to admit: out towards the beckoning finish line, that Plan was awfully elastic just now.

Yup. Sleep was pretty much optional from here on out. And that didn't even take into account the chores that he'd offered to take care of in lieu of paying rent on the apartment.

_That's right, Misato – no rigged Janken for _you_ tonight. And no humorous eyeful of naked Shinji either._

"Shinji, I'm coming in."

The door slid open. Shinji rolled his head to look at Misato, making sure to look her up and down and blush a little. He wasn't sure she could see him, but it was probably wisest just in case she could, so as not to disappoint her.

Hey, was it _his_ fault the place had hot-and-cold running fan-service? She was standing there in a _towel_, for the gods' sake!

"I forgot to tell you something."

And here came the pep talk…mostly.

Shinji wasn't the only one who found bleak thoughts in the bath sometimes. She might have been trying to come off as comforting _him_, but Shinji knew this moment for the vulnerability it represented for one Misato Katsuragi.

Katsuragi the soldier, Misato the flirt, those were her safe zones. Neither of them were exactly conducive to reaching out and _caring_ for someone – let alone letting someone else care for _her_.

"You did a very praiseworthy thing today. You should be proud of yourself."

It didn't escape his notice, not like it had the first time. '_Today_', she had said. He wondered sometimes if it was a slip of the tongue, or merely a sign that she had foregone her bed last night. Either way…

"And you shouldn't blame yourself, Misato. I chose to come here, and I choose to stay."

Her silhouette twitched and stilled. Her breathing hitched, then resumed with the regularity of conscious control. She was truly out of her comfort zone, and trying so hard not to let it show.

"Do you really?"

Not '_did_', but '_do_'. Still ambiguous. But still… either way. He could deal with ambiguous nowadays.

"We're still here." His smile caught the hallway's light. "Are we not?"

She stepped back from the doorway.

"Good night, Shinji."

The door slid shut. But her presence lingered behind the safety of 8mm balsa panelling.

"…Thanks."

Shinji rolled over with another smile. And as Misato's footsteps carried her to the sanctuary of her own room, he was pretty certain she was smiling too.

Maybe he should dig out the venerable SDAT. Just for old times' sake…

* * *

><p><strong>Ending AN:** A couple notes. The 'technically an adult' thing? I figure for the purposes of the fic that Gendo completely relinquished guardianship of his son and sent him away almost immediately in order to totally sunder any chance of a bond between them, not realising until later that keeping his hooks in him would be useful down the track. (Buggered if I know how the Japanese legal system works.) And if you're wondering, a 'technicolour snake' is an Ockerism (Australian term) referring to projectile vomit – usually after mass amounts of booze.

In keeping with the bulk of the animeverse timeline-evidence, I've decided to have Shamshel turning up in _two_ weeks, instead of the three weeks that Hyuga asserted in Episode 3. Just thought I'd mention it, in case any of you figured it for a typo.

The next chapter is going to depart from the short-lived pattern of following the episodes, as Shinji fits into the lives around him and as Gendo encounters the trap. It also means that it might take a short while to write to my satisfaction, as more original material is therefore going to have to be generated and I don't want to fuck up the characterisation or canon.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read; reviews would be greatly appreciated, especially if they come with suggestions for further improvement.


	4. Subroutine

**Disclaimer:** don't own. Refer the first chapter.

**Summary:** A tale of the closing movements of the Groundhog Apocalypse, and the eternal boy ensnared at its nexus. Four: The portrait of a dreamer…

**A/N:** …Well, I did say 'sporadic' updates, didn't I? Ironically, the whole 'original material' thing didn't end up mattering all that much, compared to trying to come up with something that didn't just scream _filler_. Hopefully I've succeeded, at least to some extent.

That, however, was not the primary reason for the delay. In addition to a couple courses and an FF8 writing challenge, the primary reason is in fact due to my practice of looking over the profiles of those who've reviewed/faved/alerted to find more good fanfic.

So, um, yeah. I got derailed. Shut up.

Grateful thanks to **KafeiDetour**, **dylanredefined**, **animekingmike**, **ZeroTheDestroyer**, **longmasher**, **Fangking2** and **korat5** for their kind comments. Especial mentions to **KendrixTermina** for the thoughtful and consistent reviewing (though there are good reasons _not_ to play around with the 'love dodecahedron' - making fun of it, yes; perhaps referencing previous disasters along those lines, maybe; actually doing it, sadly not realistic), as well as **Nexus the 13th** (I did think of those points, but the Yui-issue in particular will need the extra care taken with it later so thanks for the headsup) and **The Mustachioed Cat** (excellent con-crit, now have a more indepth explanation for the old/new Shinji divide slated for a couple chapters off; for the moment I'll say that new-Shinji was at first mostly subconscious, then mostly just watched without comment, then...well, this chapter goes into what happens next a little) for their constructive and pertinent criticism. Thanks also to those of you who have faved/followed. I hope you all enjoy this latest (rather overdue) offering.

Note: one more thanks to give out; I'll leave that one for the ending a/n. Now, onward!

* * *

><p><strong>The Eighteenth<strong>

**Chapter 4 – Subroutine (High School Debut)**

—**ox-oxo-xo—**

_The disorienting, disordered gyro-sequence of images/sensations/feelings/phantasms abruptly dwindles into the abyss from whence they surged. Left clinging to him like a stubborn grease slick in the flood's absence remains a somewhat clearer if far less psychedelic recollection, one that is, at least for the most part, his own…_

_High-pitched wailing, broken and scattered with heartwrenching sobs and cries of 'jerk!' and 'why?' for the man whose disappearance precipitated the dissonant oscillation of suffering. His host's senses filled insensate with the habitual train-carriage of his abandonment. Soon fed up with the boy's recalcitrance, he shudders into the emotionally hibernating boy's uncaring limbs and steers his body out of the bedroom and out to the dining table and into Misato's desperately clutching grasp._

_With Ryoji Kaji's death and the sundering of his leads, Shinji planned to eat the Major's gun tomorrow anyway. With what she subsequently does to him in her uncontrolled scrabbling for comfort, as his senses are overwhelmed in lavender and saline, he wonders idly if she would appreciate knowing that by this time tomorrow, none of it would ever have happened—_

Annoyed slate-blue eyes slammed open. Then they slammed shut again, painfully dazzled as a gust of wind fluttered the curtains and sent the new dawn streaming in from his wide-open bedroom window.

…_Figures._ He rolled away with a groan.

Once upon a time, Shinji Ikari had dreamt of normal things. School. Girls. Battle. Trains. Strangling. All right, _relatively_ normal things. But those were the province of a Shinji Ikari that no longer existed. Lurking in the back of the boy's head, he had sometimes wondered what he would dream about if _he_ were the dreamer. He shouldn't have been surprised, really. What else would he dream about?

Yup. Sleep was _definitely_ optional. He'd rather hoped for _one_ good night's worth of sleep, though. Or at least something useful, like the missing instalment of Friday night's Sachiel smackdown.

But then, as Aoba had said once when he was feeling particularly sardonic: '_If wishes were horses, we'd all be eating horsemeat instead of all this test-tube artificial crap_.' It wasn't like a few months short on sleep would kill him. And besides, considering the subject material, parts of it weren't all that bad. Most of the sequence had been…well, non-sequential, largely consisting of uncontrollable spurts of random with only the most flimsy and capricious of subconscious tangents to steer the vortex – in other words, much like most of his experiences of Instrumentality. That end bit, though…

_When was that?_ he wondered muzzily, _pre-Sixth or pre-Seventh? You'd think I'd remember when the one and only time I had it off with Misato was, wouldn't you… it wasn't even as if I was drunk!_ Shinji sighed with exasperation, wryly regarding the tent being pitched under his sheet.

He glared at it. It collapsed as obediently as any formerly recalcitrant manhood should after having so consistently been threatened with home-performed castration. _Fucking hormones…_ At least he hadn't been treated to more than a mercifully-brief revisit of 'that' week. Gods, it was bad enough when Kaji was dead and it was just _Misato's_ memory of it…

In the meantime, now was probably the best time to start on that list of cleaning chores. It would be appreciably quicker if he didn't have to worry about his guardian wondering at the lack of hesitation when it came to working out where everything was meant to go. Besides, just now he'd rather not have to look her in the face…or any other part of her body, for that matter. There was a time and place for tent-pitching, after all, even should he have actually wished to do so.

—ox-oxo-xo—

Sunday did not exactly set the pattern for the days that followed. It served more as an interval, during which everyone else in NERV largely gathered their breath and pretended to know how to deal with the sudden revelation of the Angels' return, and Shinji largely occupied his time with making pretence at doing the same.

Evangelion Unit-01 faced the standard laundry list of repairs and the much-maligned Induction Mode simulation had not been fully programmed to Shinji/Unit-01's data yet anyway, so most of the morning's training was taken up with drilling the new pilot on the contents of the NERV induction booklet he'd been given on Friday. Eva specs, emergence points, armament buildings, spare power sockets, recovery zones and so on, he was informed, would be covered tomorrow. At such an early stage it wasn't particularly wise to throw anything earthshaking into the ring, so he limited himself to a diffident suggestion that major central shelters and medical facilities be included in the checklist of noteworthy locations.

The hapless tech who had been given the job of tutoring the boy froze, and frowned, and then told him that was included in Monday's lesson. Shinji nodded politely and with just the right amount of relief, not betraying in the least his surmise that said tech would probably be scrambling for several hours that night to compile and incorporate the desired list. Not that it stopped him from subtly guilting the poor guy out of a fair amount of additional information when it came to NERV's inner workings. It served to break up the monotony a little.

Lunch was slightly more interesting. Misato was busy, but the 'bridge bunnies' (as they were nicknamed for unknown reasons by the Eva cage-crew) were on their own breaks and feeling moderately helpful and/or curious. More basics for the most part, but at least Lt. Ibuki knew a fair bit about NERV's other branches through her work with Dr. Akagi – thus giving Shinji an excuse to extract more detail along the 'so who are the first two Children anyway?' line of inquiry from his amiable interrogation of the trio.

Probably that portion of the day at NERV was the closest to normal, or at least what would become normal for a while after things had settled a little.

Oh, and the plugsuit-fitting. That was mildly unpleasant, as per usual.

—ox-oxo-xo—

In a further departure from standard operating procedure, Shinji was allowed to leave early while most of the stores were still open. Misato, who had somehow miraculously managed to bounce back from a triple-shift complete with complimentary mini-bender (although her breath and the way her hands trembled seemed to indicate an equally miraculous amount of coffee was the cause of this), obligingly escorted the boy around a few stores as he blew through his modest pre-NERV savings. The indigonette watched curiously and with a certain amount of amusement as she observed his shopping habits – it was strange, seeing the boy move between locales without the slightest uncertainty or procrastination, wasting no time over making his choices and locking onto the next target as if running through a mental checklist. At one point she commented on this.

"Well, _this_," Shinji pointed to a slightly dusty box adorned with a picture of a dated PDA model roughly the same size and shape as a spectacles-case, picked out apparently at random, "is so I can play _these_." The finger tapped another box, this one covered with red, gold and black bands and labelled '_Beginner's Guide to Learning German_' in _kanji_.

"German…? Ohh! So you must have heard about Asuka, huh?" Misato stretched her arms over her head as they walked out of the second-to-last store, 'inadvertently' causing a group of teenage boys loitering outside to clutch in panic at their nostrils. "Yeah, the finishing touches on her machine are almost done. They'll probably be shipped out here in a couple of months. Still, though…" she smirked, "she's coming _here_. So why bother with learning German when she'll have to speak Japanese anyway?"

"It seemed like the polite thing to do, really," he shrugged. Presumably, she thought, he hadn't actually heard all that much about the girl's personality. Or seen a picture of her.

"You don't say? Well, I'm sure Asuka will appreciate that, Shinji." Misato and Shinji each did their level best not to laugh, neither wishing to spoil the surprise for the other. Shinji made a mental note to add a minor detail to his plans while he was at it.

"So you got some music too?" she asked, pointing at a new memory stick, which had been unwrapped and taped to the side of the PDA's box. Misato had seen him at the music store's library console, leaving him to presumably order up some songs for download while she stepped over to a nearby store to drop off some photo negatives she'd taken this morning at Shinji's request.

Shinji shrugged again. "I might as well get some recreational use out of the thing. Besides, my old player is getting kinda beaten up."

"You like music, huh?" _That's good, I guess…_ Misato had taken some time to go more closely over his background file while he was being drilled. The lack of hobbies was something which had immediately bothered her. "What do you like, anyway?"

"Mostly classical stuff. I did download some 'heavy metal' music Lieutenant Aoba recommended at lunch, though; it sounded interesting, I suppose." True, Aoba hadn't mentioned most of the stuff Shinji had picked out. Hell, the bridge tech had forgotten he even _had_ most of these. But Misato didn't need to know that, and there was no reason she would ever find out.

(_Hey – even Shinji-who-was was capable of tiring of hearing something after the first _ten thousand_ times. And if nothing else, Western heavy metal was even rarer than Western classical. To Shinji Ikari, this had become rather important._

_If one were to add up all the popular radio stations around the Tokyo area and collate their playlists over the applicable timeframe, they would only find something in the region of six hundred songs. Add the alternative stations, and it would rise to nine hundred. (It wasn't something he had _wanted_ to find out, but what could he do?) There was one classical station, which played about as wide a variety of the stuff as one might find in a reasonably sized stack of old Hollywood movies. If not for Aoba, Shinji would never have even heard about heavy metal. So for the sake of not being compelled to hum whatever endlessly rehashed J-pop earworm he happened to catch in passing, Shinji eventually made it his business to get his hands on the rarest music that he could actually _find_ (hence his lack of familiarity with, for instance, central African folk-music) whenever he had the time._

_That, and some of that heavy metal was surprisingly fun to render to cello._)

Misato shrugged, leading the way over to the supermarket, their last stop before heading back. It wasn't as if _she'd_ have to hear any of it. And hey, it looked like the kid _did_ have a couple hobbies. Good for him, right?

"The books, I think they'll be useful," Shinji continued. And there was another mystery. Nothing in the way of fictional reads, apart from one volume he'd picked out from the same area of the bookstore as the school textbooks. Instead the boy had made a beeline for three different sections.

"Uh-huh…?" True, she didn't know how useful Sun Tzu's '_The Art of War_' was going to be to him – after all, he wasn't exactly a general. But who knew? and what the hell, it was his money. As for the cookbooks, she'd taken one look at the delectably spicy dish on the cover of one of them and approved wholeheartedly. "And the fitness stuff? We _do_ have a gym on base, you know."

So they had told her, anyway. She reminded herself to go and find it ASAP. A figure like hers didn't just magically _stay_ that way, right?

"Well, I'm planning to go look up the Security division for some combat training—"

Misato's musings screeched to a halt. "Huh? You're going to be in an Eva!" She winced and looked around, hoping no-one had heard her accidental breach of operational security. It didn't look like it, but the NERV captain lowered her voice just in case. "Why would you need to know about _that_ stuff? That's what Section Two is for!" _And me_, she carefully neglected to add. Though she entertained the sneaking suspicion that he saw right through that, the boy's dossier _had_ stressed his issues with trust and confidence. Why ruin it for him if he hadn't twigged already?

The look he gave her indicated that, while he was not mocking her for being slow on the uptake, it might well be taking some effort for him to refrain from doing so. "I am the Eva, the Eva is me – right? Well, I've never been in a fight before, not a _real_ one." Shinji picked up a capsicum from a crate of them and turned it over in his hand, staring at the glossy vegetable and determinedly avoiding her eyes. "I don't want to do it wrong…you know? There's too much riding on this…"

Misato Katsuragi thought about that for a bit. And as if magically summoned, a litany of ways it could all go badly awry began to present themselves for Katsuragi's increasingly worried introspection…along with one way it already _had_. No-one had mentioned that the 3rd Angel possessed capability for a long-range attack. Would Shinji have been so eager to climb up that slope if he knew the monster he was fighting against could just reach out and engulf him in a crucifix of heavenly fire the moment he silhouetted himself?

And also, the way he'd held the progressive knife had been atrocious. Like something out of a bad crime show. The image of Shinji's Unit-01 blazing off a whole clipfull of car-sized ammo like some action-movie Yakuza thug flared across Misato's horrified inner vision.

…_Huh. Maybe he has a point._ "Well, okay. I'd train you myself, but I just don't have the time so…I _guess_ the Security division could help you there. But still, the exercise manuals? I woulda figured you'd want something on martial arts…"

"Well, um…" Shinji sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "To be honest, I'm just not that fit."

The teasing began forthwith, as per usual.

He had decided not to let her know about the gymnastics part. True, she was going to tease the holy hell out of him when she found out (or more likely, when his watchers told her). But it was such a small pleasure, so easy to grant her indulgence – especially when he happened to derive a certain amount of entertainment in doing the same thing back to her. So who was he to stand in the way of that?

They finished their shopping, went home and enjoyed a medium-to-hot strength curry on boiled rice _à la_ Shinji. It was delicious. Also as per usual.

* * *

><p>"Hmm… You son seems to be taking well to the preliminary training; he appears to have studied the NERV manual sufficiently for the present. No problems reported." Sub-commander Fuyutsuki glanced back down at one report buried within a sheaf of dozens. "Doctor Akagi did mention that he suggested the locations of Tokyo-3's designated shelters and medical facilities be included in the pilot induction process. Apparently the tech who's handling his induction is taking care of this himself."<p>

"Such concern for loss of life is…" _Commendable in a soldier,_ Commander Ikari supposed._ But…_ "…a potential liability under the circumstances. Ensure the situation is monitored, Fuyutsuki."

* * *

><p><em>Again, the vortex sucks away its own detritus, only to spit up another relatively intact snippet of not-past on its way out for the increasingly attentive dreamer's consideration…<em>

_A desert of the land and of the heart, standing uncaring witness to yet another mercilessly hot day and the emplacement of yet another grave marker. A childless family from out of town, a childless priest, two childless colleagues, and another childless woman with her flame-haired Child/never-ever-call-her-'child' stand with the boy-child as they listen to the tale of one Lieutenant Shigeru Aoba's somewhat humorous death, as recounted by a faceless-to-most NERV gopher who had been his band's drummer._

_Who knows, the drummer might have a child, though Shinji thinks he doesn't. In any case, under the right circumstances the death of his guardian would be funny. If he couldn't be standing at his post and sneering sardonically at his oncoming death, he'd probably have taken being deliciously molested by a hot groupie while being handcuffed to his bed with alacrity as an alternative last-seconds-of-life activity when one of Zeruel's stray attacks levelled his apartment complex. Certainly _he_ thinks it's amusing, even if his host doesn't._

_Asuka bitches and moans afterwards while Misato offers the boy shelter, attempting to cheer him with the news that while his SDAT and cello might have been smashed beyond recovery in the devastation, at least the guitar that Shigeru had bought him survived. Losing patience with the little shit's current self-loathing cycle, Shinji smacks the boy upside the brain with a mental image of the usual result of displaying his musical talents around the Second Child without their guardian in the vicinity and takes over matters while he's reeling and trying not to drool._

_Watching Asuka try to hide her anticipation as she dashes ahead of him to Misato's car, Shinji decides to let the cycle run a little longer. It's the first time that he's had to move back into the Major's residence at such a late stage of the game, well worth hanging around for a little more data-collection. And if nothing else the man certainly holds one thing in common with Asuka – torturing the little _baka_ just _never_ gets old—_

Annoyed eyes slammed open, dazzled eyes slammed shut. Shinji groaned and rolled over. He really _had_ to remember to close that damn window.

Seriously. The smallest fuckups could so easily lead the way for bigger and bigger ones and doom everything if he didn't _pay attention_!

Alternatively of course, he could just arrange to get a different blind fitted.

His clock read 6:13am, which was at least twenty minutes later than he'd woken up yesterday. Shinji heaved his way out of his bedding and headed for the kitchen, grumbling as he shook off the effects of one trip down Memory Lane and the backwash of three billion soulgasms. Some rice in the cooker, some sardines laid out for PenPen, and off to hit the shower before Misato got up. He spared no glance for the school uniform laid out on the desk; what use mooning over a costume he'd worn most days for most of his life?

—ox-oxo-xo—

Monday didn't precisely fit the pattern either. But it was closer in several aspects.

Hikari Horaki examined the note scribbled in the margins of the boy's schedule fifteen minutes ago by the Deputy-Principal, performing the task with typically meticulous attention to detail. Shinji Ikari stood patiently at the classroom door, far enough to the side to allow other early-arriving students their entrance.

The boy's temporary-issue school ID was still paperclipped to the schedule. The photo from his previous school's card had been poorly scanned onto the designated space, the picture crooked and a little grainy from being copied twice. The face staring up at her was, near as she could tell, a match to that of the boy before her. There was something about the eyes that bugged her, something somehow… _duller_ than the real thing, but it didn't seem to be anything physically different.

Well, it was close enough. It wasn't like it was strictly her business anyway. This Ikari guy had just stood at the door until she got curious at the new face and wandered over to enquire. He'd been the one to hand over the paper. She hadn't even asked.

"Thank you, Ikari. Welcome to the school." Hikari handed the note back to him. "Though, you didn't really have to show me that note to come in."

And he _hadn't_ needed to, either. He could've just walked in and sat down and probably not even the teacher might have noticed. It was a disgrace, it really was, no matter how she tried to deny the fact in public. She swore, sometimes she was the only one in the whole school who took things seriously – including the teachers! (Correction: she didn't swear. If she did, she would. As it was, she limited herself to privately fuming and otherwise making certain students squirm with embarrassment and/or shame as often as she could possible arrange it.)

The brunet transfer student's brow furrowed slightly, cutting off her incipient inner-rant. "Aren't you the Class Representative?"

"How did you—?" Hikari stopped, resisting the urge to smack her forehead. The daybook was sitting right there on her desk.

"It's an important position," Ikari said. "It seemed the polite thing to do, with Mister… Sasaki, I think they told me?" She nodded yes. "With Mister Sasaki not in yet, I figured I should tell _somebody_ before just walking in."

Hikari blinked. Blinked again. Surely this Shinji Ikari was some sort of oxymoron? Since when were fourteen-year-old boys so polite for no reason?

Maybe he was a pervert, just pretending to be nice? She stared hard at him, looking for the tiniest telltale of hidden perversion. _No, nothing…_ His eyes stayed calmly, patiently glued to the general upper region of her face, effortlessly businesslike and impeccably courteous in their demeanour.

Her eye twitched. _Weird…_

"Um, Class Rep…?" Now he was looking a bit worried, like he was afraid she might have taken insult for whatever reason. She shook herself.

"Fine! I'm fine. That was very nice of you." She hoped that sounded right. Hikari really wasn't used to polite boys her age, and still didn't feel quite convinced that this Ikari wasn't a pervert in some fiendishly clever disguise. Best not to encourage him, just in case.

She wasn't leaning in, was she? Leaning away? Blushing? Fidgeting?

No? Well, good.

Ikari smiled and relaxed a little. "Thanks. Could you point me to a free seat, if it's not too much trouble? I don't want to put anyone out of their normal spot."

That was a relief. Hikari Horaki leapt at the opportunity to stop feeling uncomfortable and became the Class Rep once more, directing Ikari to a seat at the back and checking to see if he had his laptop and textbooks and everything else the school was meant to issue him.

Class 2-A's newest student watched Hikari bustle away back to her seat to update the daybook, conscientiously stamping out any visible nostalgia at the familiar sight and making sure not to look in any way amused while he was at it. He well knew Hikari's habit of hiding her personal feelings behind a well-crafted mask of allegiance to totalitarian authority. It seemed he'd made an impression on her, even if she hadn't realised this.

Not that she would ever _have_ to realise it, fortunately. Despite the heavily decreased damage to the city this time around, many families would still flee the metropolis that had just been attacked by the Godzilla ripoff – but most of them hadn't found the time yet to arrange it. So in the current dearth of free seats, she had actually moved him to the back, one seat to the right of one Toji Suzuhara. That was going to make befriending the athletic boy far quicker; from then on, Hikari would classify him as an acquaintance and eventual friend – or more accurately, a potential source of intel on the object of her longstanding crush. And in a few months, Toji should be nicely primed for the Class Rep to launch her campaign on his heart. Most likely _via_ his stomach.

This he knew. He knew it because he knew _them_. Like he had known them for most of his life. (Because he _had_.) In fact, that held true to some measure for just about every girl and boy in Class 2-A. Along with nearly half of the year group. Not to mention upwards of a dozen from other year groups.

(_How would events have changed if he had lived with other people…? That was just one of the torrent of questions Shinji Ikari had tried to answer over the endlessly revolving grindwheels of his time in Tokyo-3. How his choice of friends might affect the flow of events was but another logical avenue of experimentation._

_Several years went drifting by in consecutive five-month segments as the 8th Year middle-school student systematically winnowed his way through the entire class, befriending the great majority of them at some point and memorising their every facet and quirk. Several more years subsequently went drifting by as he then systematically set about seducing every last girl in the class, with results ranging from a few dates to a great deal of high-pitched moaning…quite often on his own part, given Asuka's territorial bent and predilections towards domestic violence._

_Yup. Such were the vagaries of sharing tenancy inside the head of a 14-year-old boy – especially one who had a penchant for pinching your perfectly utilitarian ideas and turning them to his own sneaky, selfish advantage when you were busy paying attention elsewhere. _Fucking_ hormones… Though if nothing else, the boy's occasional attempts at harem-creation _had_ provided a couple of his more amusing suicides-by-proxy._)

Befriending those around him was only _for the most part_ unnecessary. There were exceptions – especially when it came to fulfilling one of his two primary directives.

Toji, Kensuke and Hikari had played an important role over the long years in keeping him…well, not _sane_ exactly. At least something close enough to pass casual scrutiny. Usually. And such constant (and often fruitless) effort deserved whatever reward he could devise for them as it all came to a close.

In the meantime, however, he had an image to set. Shinji Ikari was not such a fool nowadays as to imagine his every action within these educational cage-bars wasn't under some sort of scrutiny.

First, the PDA/music player. It would be expected by NERV Security, initially at least, that he spend as much of his time as possible shielding himself behind a wall of music when confronted by a roomful of new faces his own age. One life-changing experience could only account for so much, at least immediately.

Next, the laptop. If he were looking to stick strictly to Section 2's profile, he'd be just sitting there in a miserable 'please-don't-see-me' slump instead of working. But that wouldn't fit the new persona Shinji was so carefully attempting to craft – and in any case, _this_ Shinji Ikari was in no form an angsty teenager in anything but body; better to generate the appearance of a sea-change to something more believable than attempting to adhere overmuch to the outward habits of a boy whose deathknell was confirmed on a city street east of Tokyo-3.

Setting the computer up and connecting to the school's student network, he began flicking through the lesson plans and assumed knowledge. Secondhand textbooks were pulled out of his backpack, speed-read to the stated catch-up points and dog-eared for later reference. This did not take very long, for perfectly justifiable reasons: the syllabus was identical in most aspects to the one his old school up north had followed, and the only school that Shinji had missed was the Friday he'd spent making his way to Tokyo-3 and the Saturday morning he'd spent in a hospital. He took a few more minutes scrutinising the main lesson plan in more detail, mentally flitting back to what he'd gone over nearly six months ago, and forward through the rest of Year 2015's educational itinerary. Keeping his test scores up despite so many anticipated days of absence didn't just happen, after all – and it _especially_ didn't just happen when the student in question sat around and didn't appear to do anything to make it so.

Appearances occasionally to the contrary, his invisible watchers weren't particularly stupid.

A migration of grousing students to their individual desks in his peripheral vision alerted Shinji to Mr. Sasaki's arrival. He tucked away the earbuds and followed the rest of his new-old compatriots through the Class Rep's greeting.

Before the class could begin, however, Hikari cleared her throat. "_Sensei_, we have a new student today."

Sasaki peered shortsightedly at her, blinking with puzzlement. An influx of students was _not_ the logical outcome of a giant monster attacking the city, surely?

Shinji stood and passed the teacher his documentation and stepped over to the front blackboard, writing his name and marshalling the introduction most suited to his purposes. He had, after all, had decades of practice and hundreds of goes at it. (He'd also had dozens of goes at _skipping_ it, Mr. Sasaki being the absentminded old coot he was.)

"My name is Shinji Ikari," he began with a judicious amount of nervousness for the benefit of both his audiences. "You're probably curious about why I'm moving to the city that just got attacked, but my father needed an extra hand in the family business and," he shrugged self-consciously, "well. Here I am, I guess."

A few nods, a few more cleared brows, one or two more furrowed suddenly. Not much interest shown. About on par so far.

"He's always busy, so I'm living with one of my father's subordinates; she's nice, but…a bit of a slob to be honest. She also has a hot springs penguin for a… actually, I don't know if 'pet' is the right word. I'm not sure, but I think he might be sentient."

He paused for long enough to produce a portrait-sized photo borrowed from his new guardian and hold it up for the class's inspection. Its major feature was PenPen, standing straight and proud on the kitchen tabletop, clawed right flipper bent in caricature of a salute and sucking on a straw dipped into a tin of Yebisu tucked under his left flipper. There were a few feminine refrains of 'awww…', before the beer was noticed and quizzical looks sprung to life everywhere.

"…And also an alcoholic," he continued innocently.

It was a good thing he hadn't brought the _other_ picture. Misato was in that one, leaning over PenPen in a reprisal of the pose she'd taken for the first picture she'd sent him. Now that would _not_ help the image he wished to present, no matter what popularity it might garner him in the short term. Suddenly-Polite-and-Studious Shinji would pass muster with a hell of a lot less fuss from official quarters than Suddenly-a-Massive-Player Shinji, after all…at least, once his father had been dealt with.

"Anyway… I like music, I'm a pretty good cook, and…" Shinji stopped. "…Um, that's probably enough. It's a pleasure to meet you all." And off he walked back to his seat, dipping Toji the Thankfully-Present-Today Stomach an amiable nod as he sat down. One earbud replaced, Class 2-A's newest student went back to his textbooks. Time to start studying ahead.

He was interrupted twice, that first lesson. The first PM came ten minutes in:

HorakiH: [_Pay attention!_]

Shinji mercilessly repressed the urge to send her Mr. Sasaki's entire lecture, verbatim, instead firing off the teacher's last two sentences and the one he added while Shinji was typing the message. There was no reply. The second interruption came a few minutes later – and the source almost had him grinning with satisfaction.

SuzuharaT: [_Hey, new kid. What you listening to?_]

IkariS: [_European metal. Why?_]

A brief delay. Then two messages, arriving within seconds of the other.

SuzuharaT: [_No reason. That sounds cool, I guess._]

And, from one online observer suddenly bubbling with curiosity – and given licence to indulge that curiosity by their classmate's successful conversational foray:

[_Wait a minute! THAT Ikari? The Bastard King, Ikari?_]

This time he did smile, just a little. Any real animosity towards the NERV Commander had been left by the wayside due to his simple, self-wrought inability to hate the man anymore. That didn't mean Shinji did not derive some amusement from the affectionate nickname given his father by many of his subordinates…at least, when he was far, FAR out of earshot – given Gendo Ikari's tendency to show his appreciation in so many vicious little ways to those who were stupid enough to let him hear it.

IkariS: [_I don't know. Would that not be classified information, anonymous person?_]

AidaK: [_Oh, come on!_]

—ox-oxo-xo—

Things had not yet settled in at NERV, to Shinji's lack of surprise. But the pattern of school followed by NERV nonetheless spoke comfortingly to the behavioural patterns that remained engraved bone-deep in his psyche.

The Eva-cramming sessions continued apace. This time it was the city's layout, with the same technician – the rather tired-looking technician, the Third Child noted. As promised, the shelter locations were included. More on the Eva's specs as well, particularly the types of armour on hand and in development. Again, the rookie pilot forewent offering any radical advice. He did, however, have one suggestion.

The baggy-eyed tech barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. At least _this_ one wouldn't require him to pull an all-nighter, being most likely above his pay grade. No, this time it would be Dr. Akagi who was left with any potential headaches. So Shinji was told that it should be ready tomorrow, barring unforeseen setbacks with disclosure – and if he could pass the tech's test.

Misato eventually got off her shift, and drove him home. Dinner was another stirfry, given the lateness of their return.

* * *

><p>"Hmm, this is interesting." Fuyutsuki drummed his fingers on the edges of the report. "It seems your son is adapting to the training regimen exceptionally well. He appears to have successfully memorised 87 percent of the layout specs, along with 93 percent of the Unit One specs." He nodded his approval. "Shinji seems to be devoting himself to the task admirably and with some promise."<p>

Commander Ikari absorbed this. "The school?"

Fuyutsuki consulted another report, scanning for relevant details. He frowned, puzzled. "Section Two has some concern over his behaviour. His focus on schoolwork has increased substantially from what previous reports have stated. He reportedly claimed to two students that, quote, his 'part-time job' could take up a lot of his time, so he wanted to get as much schoolwork as possible done within school hours."

Ikari quirked an eyebrow. "'Part-time job'?"

Fuyutsuki nodded. "Shinji has disclosed to the aforementioned students that he works for NERV, but nothing more detailed as yet. Electronic surveillance records indicate that one of the students, a Kensuke Aida, connected his surname to yours, sir."

"The Third Child seems to have some appreciation for security."

"Yes sir. However, Section Two's behavioural analyst seems…concerned. She contests that while several key patterns do not appear to have changed, the few changes that have occurred add up to reflect a radical shift in outlook."

Ikari leaned forward, steepling his hands. "Elaborate."

"He remains polite and somewhat aloof, and is reported to have spent much of his time listening to music as per Section Two's profile. However, Shinji appears to have engaged in some careful preparations before attending. His introduction was likely rehearsed, and he produced a picture of Captain Katsuragi's pet during its course. He spent much of his lessons not only listening to music, but working through to advanced sections of his school texts. And he spent the lunch period with Student Aida and…one Student Suzuhara, following an electronic conversation that he engaged in during the first lesson – while studying ahead and listening to his teacher's presentation _at the same time_."

Ikari was frowning. "Hm… so he's beginning to pay attention to what's going on around him. We will have to tighten information security around the Third Child, lest he become too tempting a target for interested parties." This last statement he made without the slightest flicker of humour to betray his amusement at the blatant euphemism.

That the shock of being thrown into the war against humanity's enemies appeared to have pushed the boy to _finally_ begin learning to stand on his own was of no concern, the Commander decided, except insofar as it would likely improve his odds against the Angels. Provided the boy remained ignorant of larger matters until otherwise required, Ikari could easily adjust the scenario for whatever miniscule fluctuations his behaviour might generate. As for mundane psychological or security concerns, his subordinates were perfectly capable of running the necessary precautionary measures.

"On that subject," Fuyutsuki went on, switching back to the first report, "Dr. Akagi notes that Shinji has requested that he review the footage of his combat with the Third Angel in order to maximise Unit One's effectiveness in the field. Akagi recommends that it be allowed, on the basis of the amnesia he suffered during the fight."

The Commander remained silent for a long moment. "Authorise Akagi to allot one hour tomorrow. She will supervise the Third Child's access."

* * *

><p><em>Once more, the night's detritus of Instrumentality is vacuumed away, leaving what might pass for the dreamer's own nightmare to smash into his drifting not-quite-consciousness…<em>

_A paradoxically empty schoolyard, ringing with the vengeful bellows of one boy as he pounds another boy into the dirt with fists and feet. His host doesn't resist, and he feels no need to intervene either for the moment. It's not as if the other boy has no reason for his murderous episode; Mari Suzuhara was/is a nice girl and Toji can't be blamed for lashing out at the boy who inadvertently killed her through his incompetence._

_The host has already fled to the big ol' train station in the panic room of his mind when Toji's frenzied stomping on his head is brought to an abrupt halt by a bullet doing a blown-egg impression on his ear from stage left. Even Section 2's non-interference orders have their limits, Shinji decides as he lurches to his feet and zeroes in on the uniform with his one working eye. Said uniform tells him to report to Medical, probably unwilling to spill the fact that another Angel is on its way with a witness at the scene._

_He slurs something approximating to a 'yessir' through his ruined jaw and staggers away, ignoring Kensuke and his stained pants. It'll be interesting to see how long he survives this time around – and besides, the little coward's going to be positively _squirming_ over this one when he gets off the train—_

Annoyed eyes began to slam open, only to scrunch hurriedly back shut. Shinji rolled away from the window, opened his eyes and smirked as the curtain flared behind him.

This, he felt, was a promising development. At this rate, he might actually need the alarm clock for its intended function.

It occurred to Shinji, as he wrestled his way out of the bedding, that these nightmares (Hikari and the Stooges, a couple other students, jaggedly stitched into the usual) might be… Well. Not a blessing in disguise. Perhaps they qualified as a silver lining, though. If nothing else, it seemed to help with keeping his priorities fresh. Probably a good habit to keep up…provided, at least, that people stayed out of his way for a few minutes whenever he awoke – and provided also that he took the time at some point to work out _why_ it kept happening.

That, and there was the old adage about having to get up earlier in the morning than those one wished to outmanoeuvre. (Or refrain from strangling, in the case of Asuka.) Which reminded him – it was probably about time he did something about said outmanoeuvring.

Fortunately, NERV Security probably hadn't yet found the time (or, hopefully, the reason) to plant surveillance in his room. It would be a matter of time, of course. But for the moment, it should be fine. Shinji spent a few minutes scribbling out a short note. Then he wedged it into one of his thicker textbooks and made breakfast. Next weekend would probably be soon enough to do something not-quite-illegal with the PDA, matters standing as they were.

—ox-oxo-xo—

Tuesday, as far as school at least, ran more-or-less to schedule. Shinji turned up early, refreshed himself on the subject before the lessons started, then spent most of said lessons splitting his time between reading ahead, listening to music and doing his best to fend away Kensuke's rabid fanboyisms and repeated begging for employment while Toji snickered at the pair of them and Hikari intermittently turned in her seat to glare at Toji.

The pattern continued over lunch, with some minor differences. Homework instead of reading ahead. Toji grousing aloud now that class was out about his little sister, and how she'd got chewed out by their dad for sneaking out of the shelter to watch what all the fuss was about on Friday night. Kensuke moaning over how jealous he was of the aforementioned sister, and why oh _why_ couldn't he have thought of that?

Shinji discreetly rolled his eyes and tried to remember why he'd ever thought these idiots were worth saving. Then he discreetly backed up and stomped that thought to dust, directing a silent apology and thanks to his quickly mollified inner child. Cynicism was all very well and good, but there were some places he could _not_ afford to let his mind wander when the stakes were so high.

He noticed Hikari sneaking the odd glance at the trio from across the cafeteria. But it was better for the moment not to say anything about that. There would be more suitable opportunities for teasing and matchmakery later, and likely a serving or several of pain and embarrassment to dish out to the other Stooges in the meantime – if he was going to go to the effort of giving these fools a decent life, it would be best to leave them feeling like they'd earned it…

—ox-oxo-xo—

"So…I guess that red globe was important somehow."

Ritsuko Akagi's emerald gaze slid sideways to consider the Commander's estranged son. It was not particularly friendly. His own eyes, almost black in the dim light of the conference room, studied the viewing screen without appearing to notice. "That would be the Angel's core. Data is scarce given the circumstances, but the MAGI's consensus is that this 'core' is the seat of the Angels' consciousness."

The Third Child nodded, "So given the opportunity, strike at the core. Although," he frowned, "do you suppose they're all going to self-destruct that way? If that's the case, then keeping the damage to surrounding areas down is going to be…tricky."

It was actually kind of ironic, she thought. Under different circumstances, Ritsuko imagined she might have taken a shine to the kid. He was studious, attentive, willing to devote himself to the cause to a degree which stirred some begrudging approval in the doctor…

She repressed a sigh. He really was too much like his father. The boy wore a mask. It was a well-crafted mask, exceptionally so for a 14-year-old, but it was still a mask. She was _certain_ of it. And if what lay under it was anything like the glimpses of what she had seen beneath Commander Ikari's, then his son was going to be dangerous.

How Misato could be so unconcerned was a source of rising irritation to Ritsuko. Could she so easily have been bought with a few meals and the promise of a live-in maid? Or was something else going on here? Although, she mused, her old friend might have a point when she said Shinji sometimes acted a lot more mature than he looked…

Ritsuko shook herself. Perhaps she was reading too much into matters. No doubt the way the Commander's orders had summarily dragged her away from her workload to personally brief his brat in something that anyone who had been on the bridge during the attack could have babysat him through was in part responsible for her currently acerbic disposition.

"That is possible. However, your job is first and foremost to kill the Angels. If you can take them out without additional damage to surrounding areas, then do so. But if that proves impossible, then remember that the Angel must die nevertheless. _That_ must be your first priority. The world depends on it."

The Third Child turned to regard her. She noted with interest the way that his mien, just for the briefest moment, shivered into an expression of profound contempt before slipping back into its amiable cast as he nodded in affirmation.

As if the mask had never slipped, the boy turned back to the tableau. "Are the First and Second Children reviewing this footage too, Doctor Akagi?"

She tried not to wince. _Yes – just like the Commander. Give him an inch, and he takes a mile…_ "The First Child is not currently in a position to review the combat footage." That was truth; NERV Medical was not exactly the most secure of places to allow that sort of thing in any case. "And we'd rather have a more complete picture of events before briefing the Second Child on what to expect." And that was also truth. Technically, at least. According to her old college acquaintance Ryoji Kaji, the unspoken consensus over in Berlin was that the Soryu girl was perilously overconfident and could stand to be taken down a peg or three; the best and most complete 'picture of events' would be delivered by dropping her right into the middle of things and letting her try to keep her illusions about being able to do everything by herself.

Shinji 'hmm'ed thoughtfully, absently registering the quality of the scientist's prevarication. Ritsuko really was very intelligent, accustomed to dealing with UN committees and politicians, and likely just as skilled in the sort of generalised not-_quite_-outright falsehoods that she'd just shovelled him.

In other words, she made an excellent catspaw for greater powers. All one had to do was feed her the right lines, with the right messages encoded in the right logic and buried just deeply enough under them, and Dr. Ritsuko Akagi would do exactly what was required. She was the henchman, the known quantity. There were those who appreciated that for what it was worth.

Unlike the good doctor, Shinji Ikari had no doubts about the danger that Dr. Akagi posed. There were so many ways, so very many ways that everything could go wrong – that everything _had_ gone wrong in countless previous iterations. And quite often, Project E's chief scientist was at the centre of it.

(_It wasn't until after the second Third Impact that Shinji had begun to truly comprehend the magnitude and scope of the organisations arrayed against his efforts. He soon cast aside the shame of taking so long to find out about SEELE (though admittedly the resulting paranoia proved harder to deal with to say the least). Naïve in some aspects those cynical old bastards might be. But Shinji Ikari had gradually come to appreciate that in their areas of specialty, they were virtually without equal. Notably, in information and its control – not to mention their skill at manipulating that control to steer everyone around them to their desired outcome. And Chairman Lorenz Kiel, their ringleader in both the hierarchical and the spiritual sense, was even more dangerous._

_The last thing Shinji needed was _two_ sets of opponents who could think on their feet. And time and again, it showed as one or the other effortlessly mired the increasingly knowledgeable yet perennially powerless Third Child in their internecine battles, quite often stymieing his efforts without even seeming to be aware of them. His material leads had been plumbed to their depths to little effect by the time his fifth sojourn within Instrumentality had passed. The solution by then seemed obvious: utilise their methods by gathering more information about everyone and everything around him than SEELE could access._

_As absorbing as it was at times, it counted for very, very little. It wasn't until the thirteenth Third Impact and the revelation of his increasing mastery over his participation within the lunar oversoul that he could begin gathering information on the dozen dark apostles in earnest…_)

To attempt to influence Dr. Akagi from _his_ position, on the other hand, was a tension-fraught highwire act. The compartmentalisation-prone scientist at times wielded her identification of him as a child and therefore less worthy of credibility almost as a weapon. The deep, destructive array of secrets she carried – especially regarding the enigma that was Rei Ayanami – did not help matters. And neither did her oft-demonstrated susceptibility to 'Not-From-Here' syndrome when confronted with ideas that weren't her own.

Nor did her willingness to use her looks – and later on, her body itself – to serve her purposes. Even Shinji wasn't completely immune to that, at least he hadn't been the last time he checked. (_Fucking_ hormones…!)

Perhaps now it might be different. The old Shinji had no Purpose, no Plan. And no allies worth mentioning, either. With those things, it might well prove possible to truly subvert her for once. He hoped it possible, though he would only go so far to see it happen before his other plans left him no option but to allow the requisite length of rope to leave her dancing the hemp fandango. But the timing for that, like many such plans, was contingent on the current gambit's success.

In the meantime, however, he had some more groundwork to lay. "Um, Doctor Akagi? Why didn't the Angel use that beam attack when the UN were fighting it?"

"Ah, good question Shinji," Ritsuko praised him. "We believe the Angels are capable of quickly evolving between combats. The Angels appear to learn quickly, and change their abilities to take advantage of their enemies' weaknesses. If at all possible, you should attempt to take them down as quickly as possible, in order to cut down their chance to adapt."

"Hard and fast," Shinji agreed. _When the time comes…_ "Got it, Doctor Akagi."

* * *

><p>Fuyutsuki strode into Ikari's office and approached the desk, quickly flicking over the relevant reports' summaries. This time, he decided, the Commander's son would be the first topic.<p>

It might not take more than a few moments, buried amidst the papered labyrinth of chaos in triplicate which came with their positions, but Shinji's arrival and his new position had already necessitated the change to updating Ikari on his status nightly instead of monthly. Anything which encouraged his old pupil to think of the Third Child as his son, or even as anything beyond a resource, was surely to the good.

Doomed they might well all be, between Gendo and SEELE and perhaps even Yui, no matter how little he wished to believe the intentions of that last worthy. But what was the harm in at least giving the boy a few decent memories of his father to take with him?

"Your son appeared to appreciate having access to the combat footage, it seems," Fuyutsuki noted. "Akagi reports his comprehension of the issues involved in engaging the Angels has been significantly advanced."

Commander Ikari did not respond immediately, his gaze welded to a report lying on his desk before him. As Fuyutsuki drew breath to proceed with the next item, Ikari looked up. The Sub-Commander barely restrained himself from flinching.

Gendo Ikari held out the report, the NERV Administration header prominently emblazoned across the top of the first page. "This arrived with Admin's evening document drop. Read it."

* * *

><p>…<p>

…

…

Muzzy eyes drifted slowly open. Then they darted in all directions with deepening bemusement. Even with the windows closed, even in the windowless room he'd spent so much time in once Asuka arrived, it was surely never this dark…?

Other perceptory sections of his brain reported in with their preliminary briefs. The many small aches and dulled nerves that came with sleeping on a bare, metal-cold floor. The noise of humming machinery in the background. The…lingering smell of chloroform clinging to his breathing passages…

…Oh.

Slate-blue orbs, adjusting hurriedly to the darkness, were drawn to the only source of light in the room. A large glowing blob of dim bloodred smeared on the wall, which Shinji's eyes rapidly filled in with the requisite details as they blinked away the chemical-induced fog. The half-leaf. The band of text curling away from its base. The four letters at its centre.

This…was somewhat unexpected.

It had been so long since something unexpected. Shinji had to tamp down the twin reflexive bursts of excitement and panic at the new development. Because now was most definitely _not_ the time for the unexpected.

Either way: Stage Two had well and truly commenced.

* * *

><p><strong>Ending AN:** Another long one down. I really must try not to make a habit of this… The next chapter, however, should be much shorter and be out correspondingly sooner.

Small note: a fair few of you may have noticed some aspects which might've seemed familiar? Well, if they reminded you of Matt020388's '_Evangelion: Revisited_', you'd be quite right - a fair few of his repeating-Shinji's initial actions not only make a lot of sense (eg. bringing a picture of Pen-Pen to class for his introduction) but are virtually unavoidable (eg. a contract), even if the work itself is more-or-less a parody. (Needless to say, I see no point in doing anything with the unrealistic aspects, which are _many_.) I should state that: (1) his story is quite amusing if you're into that sort of thing; and (2) I give much thanks for the inspiration I gained from his fic (which, btw, he's given open permission to source from). Don't worry, though - I'm mostly done with using his ideas.

In the meantime I thank you for reading, particularly if you're one of those who've been waiting for months for this latest instalment. Your opinions and suggestions for improvement would, as always, be highly appreciated.


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